


The Family Business

by MaraLynnCade



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamic, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Child Abuse, Forced Prostitution, Mpreg, Multi, Original Character Death(s), Underage Prostitution, poor parenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:13:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 16
Words: 39,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25033753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaraLynnCade/pseuds/MaraLynnCade
Summary: In this Alpha/Beta/Omega universe, it takes three to reproduce. The Alpha male to provide the sperm, the Beta female to produce the egg and the Omega carrier to gestate the fetus.
Relationships: Castiel/Hannah/Dean, Dean/John
Comments: 96
Kudos: 68





	1. Chapter 1

The pained whine woke Sam. The harsh whisper that followed kept him still. 

"Quiet. Or you'll wake Sammy."

It was happening again. It was happening now. For some reason Dad was hurting Dean. And for some reason Dean was letting him do it. By the way Dean moved each morning, it happened every night. Dean was hurting. Sam didn't like that. 

"Hold still. It's almost in." John hissed. The pained whimpered repeated. "Stop being such a baby. You know it's got to be done. Doctor's orders."

Doctor? That must be where Dad had taken Dean last week. It made sense that Dad would have taken him to the doctor. Dean had been feverish, feeling out of sorts for more than a week. Finally they had gone even though Dad was usually against wasting money on such things. Doctors were only for serious things like broken arms. And even then Dad had cursed the expense and his carelessness.

They'd left him alone in this crappy hotel room for that afternoon. When they had returned, they were both so quiet, so different. And since then... Since then everything had been different. Dean wasn't Dad's favorite son anymore. They didn't go out target shooting, train or wrestle. Or do a hundred other things that used to make Sam feel left out and second best. 

"There!" John breathed with satisfaction. Sammy could hear Dean's uneven breathing. Whatever Dad had accomplished was still causing his big brother pain. "Okay, roll over. Hands and knees." Dad ordered in a whisper. "Got to do your other side."

Sam heard the other bed creak, the bedding rustle. Through slit eyes, he peered through his lashes to see what was happening. Slowly, painfully, Dean rolled to his side then got his hands and knees under him. In the narrow beam of the flashlight that John held, Sam could see his brother was naked. Dean held that position, his bottom close to Dad while John set down the light, adjusting it, angling it to illuminate Dean's backside. 

"Ready?" Dad asked. Sam saw Dean nod his consent with a jerk of his head. "Deep breath. Relax." Dad instructed as he came to his knees behind Dean. He was holding something. It was long and thick like a snake but not as bendy. Dad's big hands worked it up inside Dean's hole. It must hurt a lot, Sam knew. An errant beam of light showed Dean's contorted face, his cheeks wet with tears. He was biting the corner of his pillow, trying to keep his silence as Dad worked more and more of that length inside his body. 

"There!" Dad announced with satisfaction. "All in!" He wiped his hands on a towel. He flicked off the flashlight. No sense wasting batteries, Sam could imagine him thinking. Sam heard more creaking of the bed as Dad shifted. "Go on. Get some sleep."

It took a few minutes before Sam felt his mattress dip as Dean crawled into bed beside him. He could feel, hear Dean's uneven, pained breathing in the darkness. Did Dad really expect Dean to sleep hurting like that? Why, what...

From the other bed came the deep, gruff voice. "You did good, Dean. The dialaters are working. Won't be long now. Soon you'll be open enough for a proper breeding."

Dad sounded satisfied but Sam felt Dean hitch back a sob or two.

*

Five years later...

"Hannah? Hannah?" Castiel ranged through their posh home in search of his wife. "Where are you, sweetheart?" Abandoning his briefcase at foot of the stairs, he pounded up the steps. "Hannah? Where in heavens' name...?

"Cas, what is it?" Hannah emerged from their bedroom, her arms ladened with a bundle of clothing. "My goodness," she gasped. "What has your feathers all ruffled?"

"Hannah!" He covered the distance between them in record time. Castiel threw his arms around his wife and lifted her off her feet. Hugging her close, with the clothing crushed between their bodies, he spun in a circle, once, twice.

Hannah threw back her head, laughing in delight. She had no idea what had possessed her very sensible husband but she could appreciate his exuberance. When he finally set her back on her own two feet, he kissed her deeply. With one hand pressed to his chest, she managed to take a half step back. "Castiel, what's gotten into to you? What's happened?"

Cas snatched up her hand, he brought it to his lips and kissed her palm. "The notification came today. We're at the head of the list! Uriel sent dossiers on five candidates- all top rated. All we have to do is choose a carrier and we can start our family!"

Tears of joy sprang into her eyes, Hannah threw herself at her husband. He caught her against his chest and spun her around again. They'd been waiting seven years for this day. The services of a good Omegas were hard to secure. Demand far exceeded supply.

* 

"I like this one." Hannah stated. "He has beautiful eyes."

Castiel frowned. "Beautiful eyes are no reason to pick a surrogate. Let me see his stats." Hannah passed over the folder. "Hmm, he's completed five successful breedings. Four boys, two girls. Last season he produced twins! There's a notation from a doctor that multiple births are likely. His fertility is peaking. He catches after only a handful of inseminations. Carries without complications. Each gestation went a full 40 weeks. All the babies were healthy and good sized. Even the twins weighed in at nearly seven pounds each. He sounds like the ideal Omega."

"And he has beautiful eyes." Hannah insisted, tapping the close-up photograph. "He's very handsome."

"Yes, he is good looking." Castiel commented absently as he turned to the next page. It was a series of photographs, each dated, documenting the Omega's service. 

Hannah leaned closer to study the first photo. "He was just a boy at his first breeding!"

Castiel checked the stat sheet again. "He was thirteen, legal age for breeding." He forced himself to say that matter of factly. In truth, the idea of impregnating an almost child made him uneasy. But the Omega wasn’t a child now, Castiel reminded himself. The Omega was an experienced carrier. For Hannah's sake, for the sake of their future child, Castiel did his best to sound blasé. "Some families start them young because they need the money. The examiner noted he was adequately prepped. He had no difficulty accepting the ovum or the sperm. He conceived in less than two weeks. Perfectly acceptable."

"You make it sound so romantic."

"Romance has nothing to do with, sweetheart and you know it. It is a business transaction. Nothing more. We want a family. To do that we need an Omega carrier. This young man needs money and is willing to rent his womb for a proper fee."

"Is he willing?" Hannah speculated. "Or his guardian? I know it's legal and perfectly acceptable socially. But he was started a such a young age. It couldn't possibly have been his idea. And I can't help but wonder how the Omegas feel about these 'business transactions'. They accept life into their bodies, carry it for nine long months, suffer through the pains of childbirth then they are forced to walk away from the child they bore. And then they have to repeat the process the next year. And the next. Again and again."

Castiel stuck his chin out defiantly. He wanted a child. Their marriage needed a child to be complete. He wasn't going to allow his wife's tender heartedness to ruin this opportunity. "I imagine that an Omega feels honored to be entrusted with life. Think of how wonderful it must be to feel that life growing within your body. It is a sacred privilege to bring a new life into the world. The most wonderful talent a being could possess. Of course the Omega should be paid -paid very well- for the precious gift he produces." Castiel held his wife's hands tightly, their eyes met. "You want a child, don't you?"

"Of course, I do!"

"Then this is our chance. Our opportunity for a family." Castiel brought her hands to his lips again. "I'll contact Uriel, first thing, in the morning. He can start negotiating the contract." He referenced the dossier again. "We have to act fast. His heat is coming up quickly." Cas caught the corner of his lower lip between his teeth as he considered the Omega's photo gallery. "I hope there isn't a bidding war."

Hannah cast her misgivings aside. "Whatever it costs, dear, a baby by this Omega will be worth it."


	2. Chapter 2

Sam kept his head down as he worked his way up the aisle of the school bus. Most of the kids ignored him as he passed. Two girls giggled behind his back. Were they making fun of him? His spine stiffened automatically. It didn’t matter. He didn’t care what these local yokels thought. Really he didn’t. Burt, the school bully and Sam's personal pain in the butt, had his legs stretched out, blocking the way. Sam managed to squeeze past as Burt growled 'Watch it, punk!'

The bus driver threw a sympathetic look his way but did nothing. He didn’t expect her to speak up. It wasn’t her job. He had to fight his own battles. Or avoid them. Whatever it took to get by until the next inevitable move.

Once on the sidewalk, Sam walked slowly down the block. He wanted the bus to be out of sight before he headed to his current 'home.' The kids at school didn’t need to know he lived in this rat trap motel. They didn’t need to know a damn thing about him. He picked his way across the parking lot, avoiding potholes, broken bottles, eddies of trash and a congealing puddle of puke. Everyday features of this dump. At least he didn’t see any used syringes or blood today.

He didn’t linger now. He knew from experience that there were enough creeps living here ere who would be only too happy to catch a kid unaware. He had his key ready for the lock by the the time he got to the door. A quick turn, he pushed open the door, just enough for him to slip inside. A sigh of relief escaped as he heard the lock click at his back. Home sweet home. Sam scanned the dim, stuffy room. What a load of crap!

The room was too still. Concerned, Sam called his brother’s name. Where was Dean? His brother wouldn’t dare go out alone. Not Dean.

"Hey, Sammy." A small quavering voice answered from the farthest, darkest corner.

"Hi Dean. Hey, is it okay if I turn on some lights?"

"Sure, whatever." Sam heard Dean shift as he flicked on the bedside lamp. The resulting glow was enough to reveal his big brother, huddled in the corner, forehead pressed to upraised knees.

Rounding the beds that dominated the room, Sam dropped his backpack on the floor. It was obvious that Dean was hurting. Perspiration stained the tee shirt he wore. His hair was plastered to his head. Misery pinched his face. Sam had seen him like this many times before. There wasn’t anything he could do to stop what was happening but he had learned a few tricks to help. Sam snatched a towel from the rack. He soaked it in cold tap water, wrung it out and crouched at Dean's side.

"Here." He pressed the cool clothe to Dean's forehead, moved down his cheeks to his chest. "Better?" The answer was a small nod and a twist of cracked lips, maybe a smile. "Good." He draped the towel around his neck. "Hey, come on. How about we move you up into my bed? Maybe you could get some sleep."

Dean hunched further into his corner. "You know Dad wouldn't like that."

"Dad doesn’t have to know."

"He'll know." Dean looked at him out of bloodshot eyes. "Don't cause trouble, Sammy. Ok?

They'd had this conversation too many times in the past, for Sam to expect a different outcome. And arguing with Dean wouldn’t help him. Not now. "Hey, have you eaten today?" Sam was pretty sure of the answer. He reached for his backpack, fished out the small box he been guarding all afternoon. "I brought you something."

Dean's stomach rumbled on cue. That was all the encouragement Sam needed. He tore open the box to deposit the pastry into Dean's hands. The crust had a few cracks but he'd managed to keep it from getting completely smashed in his bag. Dean just stared at the small pie. "Come on, try a bite." Sam cajoled. "It's cherry. Your favorite."

"I'll get fat." Dean protested, even as saliva pooled in his mouth. In their heads echoed their father's oft repeated lecture. 'Don't stuff yourself, boy. No one wants a fat Omega.' Sam doubted that there was an ounce of fat on his brother. And not much muscle either. John Winchester's picture of an ideal Omega was pretty severe. He kept Dean on a strict regime.

"Try just a little bite. Dad doesn't ever have to know." 

Dean gave him a sidewise look that likely meant 'Dad always knows' but the temptation was too great. He brought the small hand pie to his mouth to nibble a corner. Flavor exploded in his mouth. A bigger bite followed. More. More. Before he knew it the entire pie was gone, filling a hollow in his stomach that he hadn't realized was there.

Sam sat cross legged, feeling very pleased with himself. They could both benefit from a bit of rebellion. "You know you don't always way to do what Dad says. You can tell him 'no'."

The spark of pleasure faded from Dean's eyes. He looked away, pained by the disappointment in his brother's expression. "You can't fight your biology, Sammy. You just can't."

*

Hannah set the dinner plates on the table as Castiel uncorked the wine. A nice Chardonnay to go with the grilled salmon, wild rice and asparagus tips she had prepared. They didn't have wine with dinner every night but today's news merited a small celebration. Castiel, ever the gentleman, pulled out her chair to seat her before taking his own place.

"This looks delicious! My compliments to the chef." Castiel raised his glass in a toast. Although Hannah mimicked his gesture and smiled, Cas knew his wife. There was something troubling her. He could she it the restless movement of her hands, the way she avoided direct eye contact. As gently as he could manage he asked, "What's troubling you, darling?"

Hannah blushed, embarrassed to be read so easily. "It's nothing really. I'm just being silly."

Cas knew his wife was anything but silly. She was a sensitive, loving individual. If something was bothering her, he wanted to know. "Tell me." He invited, taking her hand.

Hannah ducked her head. "It's silly really." Her blush deepened. From the corner of her eye, she could see Cas' intent expression. There was no going back now. "I, um, I was just wondering, um, will we meet the Omega before 'you know'." She hurried on to explain. "I've never been with anyone else. How do I know if I can, I mean what if we aren't-" She stumbled, trying to find the right word- “compatible?"

That stymied Castiel. He was ever bit as inexperienced as his wife. They'd been high school sweethearts. He remembered his own inept fumblings on their wedding night. It had taken time and a lot of practice to build a satisfying love life. Sex- good sex- wasn't a given like books or movies would have you believe. Experience helped but there did have be a basic attraction, affection. Hannah was right to be concerned. As Castiel saw it there was nothing he could do but fall back on practicality. "I'll have Uriel negotiate a meeting to determine 'compatibility'. Once we meet the Omega, we can decide if we can go through with this." 

*

John breezed in at full swagger. For him, it had been a red letter day all around. So much so, that he'd sprung for pizza on his way back to the motel. Fate was indeed smiling on him, Little Caesar's was running a 2fer special. Feeling the bounty, he opted to stop in at his preferred liquor store. Tonight he'd celebrate with the good stuff. Not the rot gut sold at the corner convenience store. With better times in the offing, he could treat himself to two bottles. Hell, he'd earned a reward.

"Good news, boys," John announced without preamble. He plopped the pizza boxes on the rickety dinette table. "Got another fish on the line. I've set the bait." He cocked a his index finger in Dean's direction. "It's your job to reel 'em in. Must be newbies to the system. They actually want a meet and greet 'to assess compatibility'. At least that's what their lawyer said. Can you believe that?" He scoffed, uncaring of his sons' silence. "They probably just want to see if you're as pretty as your pictures. I told 'em it would cost them $500 extra- have to cover my time and inconvenience, after all. Their guy never batted an eye. I should've asked for a thousand." John grumbled as he crumpled the paper bag that had held tonight's whiskey. He made a half assed attempt to toss it into the waste basket. It landed no where near its target.

Dean rose. He moved silently to pick up the crumpled bag and deposited it in the trash. Without waiting to be told, he went back to his corner.

Sam seethed, not sure if he was more angered by Dad's callous attitude or Dean's grim acceptance. This wasn’t right. Normal people didn’t live like this. He glanced over at Dean. His brother had curled up, shrouding himself in the ratty Army blanket that Dad, of so graciously, reserved for his use. This just wasn’t right!

"For god’s sake, Dad, have some consideration for Dean's feelings! You know what this does to him! He's hurting. And it's only going to get worse. And you waltz in like you just won MegaMillions! Jeeezz-“

John pinned him with a black look. He was a big man but he could move quick when he had to. He wasn’t going to let his brat's constant bitching ruin his good mood. With as much forethought as swatting a mosquito, he cuffed the little ingrate across the face, "Shut your yap, boy. When you can earn your way you can criticize how I provide for this family. I don't see you turning down your supper for any of your high falooting morals." 

Goddamn kids! Always ruining everything. A forehand blow followed. "You're so goddamn smart. Think you know it all." The familiar rage built, feeding itself. "You don't know shit, boy." John shouted. Sammy stared up at him, defiance- hate in his eyes. The little shit never learned. "Need to learn your place. Respect your father! Number one lesson! I'll teach you to mouth off at me." John undid his belt buckle. With a quick yank, he stripped the leather from the belt loops. "Gotta learn, boy!" He doubled the strap in his hand. It felt good. It felt right. His arm rose. Fell. Again. A father had to teach his children- Again. The Bible said- Again. 'Spare the rod, spoil the child'- Again. Some kids just never learned!

"Stop, Dad! Please stop! Sammy didn't mean it! Please, Dad!"

In his self righteous rage, Dean's yammerings went unheard. His older son's feeble attempts at intervention were a minor annoyance that only fed the fire. Apparently both his boys needed to be taught a lesson.


	3. Chapter 3

Bleary eyed, John stared out into the darkness of the room. Goddamn kids! Ruined everything. He bent his elbow. The whiskey was smooth going down. Its warmth filled his belly. It blurred his thoughts, muted his earlier anger. The boys' mewlings had finally quieted. Goddamn kids. Never learned. Thought they had all the answers. John snorted in disgust as he brought the bottle to his lips again. The long pull he craved came up short. The liter was drained. Shit! Shit! Shit! Goddamn kids. He tossed the empty out into the darkness. The startled yelp of response barely registered. Damn. Damn it all!

Kids think they know it all. Got all the answers. In the darkness, John reached for his second bottle. His hands groped over, around the unopened pizza boxes. It was supposed to have been a good night. A celebration. Anger flaring, he shoved the boxes off the table. Goddamn kids ruined everything. A thud sounded as the second bottle fell onto its side. That helped him locate it. A small victory. Breaking the seal, unscrewing the cap, John toasted his achievement with a long soothing swig. Damn kids. Another mouthful. The liquor morphed his anger toward the maudelin.

His life was shit. It wasn't supposed to be like this. This boatload of shit. It was supposed to be him and Mary. Happy and together. Mary, his beautiful, beautiful Mary... Husband and wife. Til death do us part. Shit! Another pull on the bottle. Anything to try to block the memories, to dull the pain. She had wanted a family. Kids! Goddamn it! Doctors advised against it. Uterine insufficiency. She had laughed. And had proved them wrong when Dean was born. He had celebrated that happy occasion. Should have been satisfied. Should have been enough. Should have known not to tempt Fate. Not again. The second pregnancy was all wrong. As the baby grew, Mary faded. Not drastically at first. But enough. The doctors recommended termination. It was legal. It was advisable. He should have taken a stand and insisted... John drank down his guilt. Mary refused, made him promise. Goddamn promises!

Another long pull on the bottle. What the hell was he supposed to do with two kids and a dead wife. Friends were quick with sympathy, tears and suggestions. They had all the answers. 'Just trying to help' John slurred sarcastically into the darkness. The bastards were eager to take advantage of his misery. Two healthy boys, no need to put their wives' in danger. Goddamn Bobby Singer, his own bull shitting partner! John took a quick slug of whiskey. Goddamn sanctimonious bitch, Karen! Who the hell were they to say he wasn’t fit to be a father! Kids had to learn! It was a father's job to teach'em, raise'em right... He had promised Mary. She had begged him with her dying breath. He had promised.

Head heavy with sorrow, the bitter memories continued. Bobby and Karen- the traitors! The sniveling, two faced bastard cowards- they had gone behind his back to report him to the authorities. John sneered, remembering their excuse. 'Only did what was right for the boys.' John washed down the betrayal. Then the goddamn meddling social workers banged on his door.! Threatening to take his kids. Neglect they said. He had managed as best he could. Two boys, a dead wife. They gave him no choice. He had to hit the road. Take his boys and run, get away from their goddamn poking around. The memories circled in his head, haunting him. John took another drink, trying the only way he knew to drown his past.

*

The relative quiet was comforting. Dean lay awake, listening. Sammy's deep even breaths were a pleasant counterpoint to Dad's erratic snores. He was relieved that Dad's late night mumblings had ended. John seemed to have finally passed out from the booze or exhaustion. Most likely both had pulled him over into sleep.

Cautiously, Dean eased the empty flask that had struck him off to the side. He wished it was capped. The strong odor of booze lingered. He hated the stench. Hated the memories it invoked. Dean considered his options. He should stay where he was. Stay quiet. Try to rest. His pallet in the corner was the closest thing to a safe zone that he knew. With any luck, he would fall asleep eventually. The welts across his back were a distraction from the cramps in his gut.

Across the crowded motel room, Dad's snores were interrupted by a snort, two then some uncoordinated fumbling. It sounded like Dad had nearly toppled out of his chair. Left as he was, he probably would slump down onto the floor at some point during the night. That wouldn't do. Dean didn't want Sammy to wake up to the sight of their father sprawled out on this filthy, threadbare carpet. That wouldn't earn the man any respect from his son. And waking up, stiff and hung over would only make Dad's mood more surly in the morning.

In cautious moves, Dean rose. He didn't want to wake his little brother. And he sure didn't want to roust Dad. At least not yet. He paused, sharp ears tuned to their breathing patterns. All good. He stretched out an arm, reaching around the door jamb to flit on the bathroom light. Its meager light spilled out into the bedroom, enough that he could see shapes now. Quiet as a mouse, Dean eased his way across the room. This wasn't the first time he had done this. He knew the steps. First, turn down the bedding on the empty bed. Next, ease up to Dad. Wait. Make sure he's out for good. He could make out in the dim light that John was sprawled in the decrepit chair, limbs limp, head tilted back, snoring loudly. Dean sank to his knees. He eased a pant leg up and blindly undid the boot laces. Dad didn't stir. Encouraged by that, Dean lifted his leg and tugged off one boot, then the other. He set them neatly aside, ready and waiting for Dad's use in the morning. So far, so good.

Dean rose. He paused to muster his strength and his courage. Dad was a big man. And a mean drunk. He had to do this right or he would earn himself another beating. Dean bent down low. He draped a beefy arm over his slim shoulder. The weight, the added pressure made the welts smart even more. Dean bit back a hiss of complaint. Not now. He had a job to do.

With a small grunt at the effort required, Dean hefted his father upright in the chair. John's head lolled, rolling forward, chin to chest. Dean froze, holding his breath. John stayed unconscious. Good. All good. Dean drew a quavering breath. Time to get on with it. "Easy, Dad." He crooned softly, "Up you go. That's it. Lean on me. I'll take care of you." Dean's stumbled under his father's solid weight. "Just a few steps." He managed between gritted teeth, not sure if the encouragement was for Dad or himself. "Almost there. One more step..."

Dean slung the limp body down onto the mattress. Success. Relief. He allowed himself a brief moment of satisfaction. Then he bent down to lift each leg, swinging them up onto the bed. When that was accomplished he pulled the covers up to fend off the room's chill. John cooperated by rolling onto his side, snuffling into his pillow. 

With Dad settled comfortably, Dean skirted the bed. He returned to the table. There he found the nearly drained second bottle on its side, spilling a small pool. That explained the strong stench of booze in the air. Dean righted the bottle. Searching with his fingertips he was lucky enough to find a cap. He screwed it on quickly. He was tempted to dump the vile stuff down the drain. But if Dad found out that he had done that- and he always found out- he would get the beating of a lifetime.

Dean tiptoed into the bathroom. He found a wash rag, ran it under a trickle of water and wrung it out. On the way back to wipe off the table his foot snubbed up against one of the pizza boxes. A groping hand found the other. Dean's stomach growled, declaring its empty state. Now that he concentrated on it, he could detect the tempting aroma overladen by the stench of whiskey. Dean mopped up the puddle of booze. Mouth watering at the thought of the boxes' content, he deliberately set the two back on the table. Dean hesitated. The temptation to steal a slice or two was great. Pizza, he knew, wasn't an approved item on an Omega's diet. But he was hungry. He had had nothing to eat today but his usual bowl of mash for breakfast and Sammy’s treat. His stomach rumbled again, taunting him. He could do it. He could eat it. Dad never needed to know...

Dad always knew. Dad always found out. Dean turned away, returned to the bathroom to rinse out the wash rag. On the way, he snatched up the empty liter, set it into the waste basket on top of several of its brethren. Satisfying himself with the thought that Sammy could have as much cold pizza as he wanted for breakfast, Dean curled up on his pallet. The Army blanket covered his chilled flesh. 

He needed to get some sleep, he told himself, dismissing his body's complaints. He'd need to look his best to close the deal with the new clients. He wondered when it was scheduled. What would he be expected to do at this 'meet and greet'. He needed to win their approval. What skills would he have to demonstrate? Beneath his blanket, Dean shuddered at the new possibilities.


	4. Chapter 4

Hannah opened her pocketbook to draw out her cloisonné compact. The antique was a sentimental favorite, a good luck talisman. Cas had bought the pretty bauble for her at the Paris flea market while on their honeymoon. For the third time, she checked her lipstick, her hair, her smile. She wanted to look perfect for this meeting. She had to be perfect. This was too important for anything less. Castiel wanted a child. He deserved a child. His family was prominent in the community, old money and influential. He needed an heir to carry on the family name. But most important, they needed a child to love.

She had tried to give him a baby. Three miscarriages in as many years. Heartbreak each time. She had been willing to keep trying. But the doctors said no. It was hopeless. She would never be able to carry a pregnancy to term. They predicted if she tried again, that it might be fatal. Castiel refused to endanger her. After that he had religiously used prophylactics. But they held onto the hope that someday they could hire a willing Omega carrier.

And that someday could be today. If the Omega agreed. If they could agree upon a contract. If they were ‘compatible'. If everything was perfect. She had to make everything perfect. She had to be perfect! Hannah reached for her compact again...

Castiel intercepted her hand. He bought it to his lips to kiss her palm. "Relax." Cas said softly, in that hushed sleepy drawl that she loved. "You are beautiful. And you will be a wonderful mother."

Tears filled Hannah's eyes. "And you'll be an awesome father." He really would be, Hannah thought. Castiel was the sweetest, most gentle, giving man...

Their car pulled up to the curb as their chauffeur announced their arrival.

*

Dean stood at attention under his father's scrutiny. He fought down a shudder as John circled to his back. A calloused finger traced the length of a welt turned to bruise this morning. His back wasn't as bad as he'd feared. A lot of bruising but the skin was only broken in a few spots where the belt buckle had bitten. The bruises would fade in a couple of days. The open wounds would take a bit longer to heal. He would be okay. He had survived worse. Lots of times. 

"If anyone asks about these..." John prompted.

"Just rough housing with my little brother." Dean practiced a casual shrug. "We got a little carried away."

John nodded his approval of the lie. Even that small movement made his head pound. Damn kids, always making him mad. He traced his finger down the spine. The bony column was clearly visible. No unsightly flab on his Omega, no sir. Not on his watch! His finger continued down the cleft of the buttocks to probe the hidden channel. Dean took the penetration without flinching. Good. The boy remembered his training. The channel was open. John had already made sure of that. He'd given Dean a series of cleansing enemas as soon as Sammy was out the door. The high colonics were necessary and effective. No one liked a dirty O channel.

John probed deeper. He thrust his finger in and pulled out. Added a second digit. Pushed in again. Deeper. Again. And again. The channel lubed properly, began to rhythmically contract and release, milking his fingers. John pulled out, stepped away. He took a moment to steady his heartbeat as he wiped his hand. "That's enough." He ordered in a gruff voice. "Save it for when it counts."

Dean kept still, rigid as his father circled to his front. He kept his eyes focused on a torn patch of wallpaper. He knew what was coming. John's inspections were as thorough as they were frequent. 

A quick flick of each nipple to assess their responsiness. Dean had never been required to suckle any of the infants he carried, so he was still flat chested. No saggy tits here. No sir. Not allowed. John's mandatory exercise regime kept the pecs taut. No amount of exercise however would return the nips to their petal pink virginal state. The aureoles had darkened and enlarged with each pregnancy.

Somethings even a diligent O wrangler couldn't control. The oversized nipples. The tracery of stretch marks marring the flat belly. You did the best you could, John philosophized. You did what was necessary to keep your Omega in proper breeding form. Nobody liked a fat Omega. Nobody liked a mouthy one either. John made sure his boy was neither. 

*

A rough hand traveled down, over his hollow belly to grope his groin. Dean steeled himself. He heard his Dad curse under his breath like he always did when he explored his son's anatomy. The differences between Alpha and Omega were all too apparent. His groin was completely devoid of pubic hair and a scrotal sac. Just a small cleft where his ovireceptor was tucked away, only the very end protruding from its sheath. John pinched the tip. A steady pull drew his organ out. Dean clenched his teeth to withstand the discomfort. His organ emerged, long and skinny, articulated like a snake. John adjusted his grip. Even flaccid, the length overflowed John's broad palm. The tip was pointed and hard, not round and spongy as an Alpha's penis would be.

Dad gave his 'dipstick'- the street name for an ovirecptor- a couple of harsh tugs to gauge his erectile function. Response was hard to summon without the stimulus of Beta pheromes but Dean was well trained, conditioned to perform. His organ stiffened, elongated, and lubricated as the tip blindly sought a vagina to penetrate. Abruptly, Dad released his grip. Dean knew that his sexuality disgusted his father. Dad made that clear. It was a bitter disappointment to John Winchester that his firstborn had turned out to be an Omega. Dad took that as a blow to his own manhood.

"Take a shower. Ice that down." John ordered. "Then get dressed. Make it snappy. We've got to get moving. Now, Dean, go."

*

The conference room was large and very masculine. Lots of dark wood and leather. Lots of sharp angles. Nothing cosy, nothing comforting or homey. Hannah found the place to be very intimidating. 

"Maybe," She tugged on her husband's sleeve to be sure she had his full attention. "Maybe we should meet them in a restaurant or the coffee shop downstairs. This is so cold," Her gesture included all of the severe room. "So unfriendly..."

Castiel gave her other hand a reassuring squeeze. "Neutral ground." He said simply. "It's best we keep it formal until we know for sure that we want to go through with this."

"You're having doubts?" Hannah's hopes nosedived.

"Sweetheart," Castiel chided her gently. "You said, we agreed that we need to be sure the three of us are compatible. We have to be honest with each other on this. No acquiescence for the other's sake. Agreed?" He accepted her nod for an answer. "If there's no chemistry, there's no point negotiating a contract. We'll take it one step at a time. Uriel has a doctor standing by. If we are interested, he'll do a brief exam." Castiel felt her leap of concern. "Just enough to determine that the Omega is a healthy receptor. That his estrus is eminent. There's no point to negotiating a contract if the Omega is fallow."

"I never thought it would be so complicated." Hannah confessed. "Actually, I guess, I never thought much about it at all. I just want a baby. Our baby! Oh, Cas!

*

Uriel led the way into the conference room. With a nod of acknowledgement to his clients, he took his customary place at the head of the table. A sweep of his hand indicated where the visitors should seat themselves. Uriel cleared his throat. All eyes were upon him. "Shall we begin..."

*

Beneath the table, Castiel kept a firm grip on his wife’s hand. He could feel her trembling. He wasn’t in much better shape himself. This whole experience was surreal. The Omega, in person, was even more attractive than his photographs. Slim, seemingly fragile, he moved with innate grace. There was something about him that instantly drew Cas' attention as the Omega entered the room. Silently, he slipped into the leather chair opposite Hannah. He kept his eyes downcast except for one brief moment. As his agent, pulled back a chair to sit down, the Omega stole a quick glance at Castiel and Hannah. 

One glance was enough. Dean liked what he saw. The bond this couple shared was strong. Dean could sense the love that united them. This couple would be good parents. Adding a baby to their union would be a welcome task. That certainty allowed him to relax a bit. 

John plopped down into the posh leather chair, betting to himself that that one piece of furniture cost more than every stick of the crap in their ratty motel room. Elbows propped on the upholstered arms, John sat back. He feigned indifference, crossing an ankle over his knee. Eyebrow cocked with contempt, he stared at the pompous a-hole of an attorney.

"Shall we begin..."

"What do you want to know?" John shot back, determined not to be intimidated by all of their fancy window dressings. He held the winning hand. And he was determined to play it to his advantage. If they wanted Dean's services, they would to pay. Big time. This was his chance to score. "I figure you already checked out my boy's breeding record. Or we wouldn’t be here. What more do you need to know?"

Hannah exchanged a panicked look with Castiel. What did they want to ask? Cas' wide eyed look said he too was at a loss. She looked at the Omega. He was only a boy. A boy with a very special ability. "What's it like?" she asked quietly. The down turned face lifted. Clear green eyes locked onto hers. Her heart melted a bit.

"What— what do you mean?"

"What's it like to carry a baby?" Her voice was filled with awe.

Dean warmed to the Beta. She seemed to be a gentle soul. He liked her. He... A suppressed snort of impatience from Dad had Dean looking sideways, out of the corner of his eye. Should he answer? Did he dare? 

"Go on." John ordered, "Tell the lady what she wants to know."

Dean spoke slowly, not sure what to say, what the Beta wanted to hear. "It's very special... To feel a life growing inside you." The intent looks on the couple's faces encouraged him to find the words. "It starts right away, you know, at the transfer. I didn't realize it the first time. But now," Dean continued, striving to explain the wonder. "It's a heaviness, not much of course. But I can feel it. Like a bubble, you know, a soda bubble...all light and fizzy. And then," He locked eyes with the Alpha, "with the fertilization... the conception, it's like 'POW!' A tiny explosion of power. Of completion. It warms you all over." Dean glowed. His tentative smile grew into an ecstatic grin. "It takes your breath away. It’s God's greatest gift happening right inside you! And it grows every day." He looked from one to the other, hoping that they understood. Hoping that was enough to answer her question? The look of wonder on both their faces, indicated that he might have. His senses zeroed on the Beta. Dean felt the pull to couple with her. Without thinking, he blurted out. "You will ripen soon."

The lady's mouth rounded into an 'O'. The man's jaw went slack. Shocked by his own indiscretion, Dean dropped his gaze.

*

The thud of Dad's boot hitting the floor broke the tableau. "That's it. That's all you wanted to know." He sneered at the clients. "Hell, it costs fifteen damn dollars an hour just to park around here. And the drive downtown is a bitch. Just so you can chat about the miracle of life." His tone was mocking.

Castiel spoke up. "Be assured we will compensate you for your inconvenience." He drew a slim billfold from the inner pocket of his suit coat. Without looking he slipped out a $50 bill. "This should cover the parking garage fee." He placed the bill on the table and slid it in John's direction. John's eager grasp met him before it was half way. "There’s a doctor standing by, to verify your health while my wife and I confer with our attorney. Uriel, perhaps, Mr....." John supplied his name. "Perhaps Mr. Winchester would like a cup of coffee while he waits."

Pleased with himself, John pocketed the money. "Make it Irish." He told the pretty, young thing who came to escort Dean to the waiting doctor. "And how about throwing in some donuts, too."

*

"I've seen grifters like this before." Uriel cautioned his clients. "All he cares about is taking you for every dollar he can."

"We have money." Castiel replied. "What we need is a child. And for that we need a carrier. He has to be legitimate or he wouldn't be licensed by the Omega Registry."

"He is legal- barely. There are citations on record that he extorts extra payments after the conception. And an on going investigation that he double contracted the last pregnancy. Custody of the resulting twins is still under dispute. It is proving to be messy ligation for all parties concerned. As your attorney, I would advise you to select another Omega."

"Oh, Cas, no! We couldn't. I couldn't." Hannah gasped. "It has to be him! You felt it, didn't you? You felt it, too! I know you did."

"Yes." Castile confessed slowly, considering the consequences. "I felt the attraction."

"It's simple chemistry." Uriel interceded, trying to reason with his clients. "Pheromones, that's all. Wouldn't surprise me in the least if he's trained to turn them on or off at will. These shysters know all the tricks."

"Cas, please..."

"We can't fault them for doing their job. Or for selling a vital service for reasonable compensation. " Eager to please his wife and himself, he turned a hard eye to his lawyer. "It is your job to protect our interests." He paused, wheels turning in his head. "This contact. Mr. Winchester wants money. We give him money. But we get certain securities in exchange..."


	5. Chapter 5

They weren’t donuts but they tasted fucking fantastic! John plucked another of the fancy pastries from the tray. He sank his teeth into the flakey layers. Damn! There was chocolate hidden inside this one! He finished it off in two bites, then washed it down. The coffee was full flavored, laced with the good stuff. They could have been more generous tipping the bottle, but John wasn't complaining. Overall he thought he could learn to live this way. It was about damn time he got to appreciate the fucking finer things in life.

He was debating downing a third when the door to the inner sanctum opened. The fat ass attorney eyeballed him as he ushered in the suckers. If John was any judge of human nature, he had them right where he wanted them. John took another swig of his coffee to hide his smug grin.

"Mr. Winchester, my clients are prepared to enter into a contract with the Omega, Dean under the following conditions..."

*

Dollar signs flashed and danced before John's eyes. Fucking shit! Did they know what they were offering him? Fighting to keep his game face on, he did the math in his head. Ten grand for each month carrying. A bonus of the same at conception. Double bonus upon delivery. And a bonus for a healthy baby. They just kept throwing money his way!

Holy fucking shit! This would be the score of a lifetime! The payout could be four, nearly five times the usual. This would set him up for life! He could buy into a garage or better yet, a bar, like he'd always wanted to. Settle down. Get them some decent digs. Hell, if Dean got popular with the big money crowd, he could score like this every season! He'd be fucking filthy rich! Dean had at least another fifteen, maybe twenty breedings in him.

"Of course, this is all contingent on the doctor's report." Uriel concluded. "Do you have any questions, Mr. Winchester? Any addendums you care to propose?"

Calculating that he could string them along just a little further- hell, maybe they'd up the ante again- John put up the only roadblock he could think of. "Let me get this straight. You want my boy to live with you, be your responsibility, for the whole time he's carrying, not just the time it takes to 'do the deed'." John waggled his eyebrows suggestively, earning a blush from the lady.

Castiel spoke up. "No offense is intended, Mr. Winchester. My wife and I feel that this would be the only way we could insure the wellbeing of our unborn child. And it would allow us to participate in the gestational process as completely as possible."

John snorted, trying to picture that. "You gonna hold his head while he pukes in the morning? Rub his back when it aches or his feet when they're swollen?" Not that he did any of those things to comfort Dean, but Sammy did. "I suppose you want to hold his hand while he pushes the kid out, too."

"Of course!" Hannah answered, eager to dispel his concerns. "We will take very good care of Dean and our baby. I promise you, sir, we will do whatever is necessary."

Keying into another opportunity to increase the pay out, John pushed. "You know Dean has responsibilities at home. He cooks, cleans, takes care of his little brother. I'm a busy man. I don't know if I can spare him full time like that."

The attorney spoke up this time. "Surely, Mr. Winchester, the compensation outlined is adequate to hire whatever domestic help you may require for the duration of the gestation."

A polite knock on the conference room door forestalled any response from John. A short, distinguished looking older gentleman entered, followed by visibly agitated Dean. The damn kid has blown it, was John's first thought. If he's queered this deal, he'll pay big time, John vowed silently.

"Thank you for join us, Doctor Leonardo. Your report, please."

The man peered over the top of his glasses as he addressed the group. "Overall, the health of the Omega, Dean is adequate. He is indeed in the initial stage of estrus. Given the proper hormonal stimulation he will be capable of gestation. There are, however, several irregularities that concern me. The Omega is underweight and anemic. An improved diet, heavy on proteins, fruits and vegetables, rather than processed foods is recommended. I have a chart of the recommended caloric intake of a carrying Omega should receive, with suggested meal plans." Hannah reached out to take the colorful brochure while John muttered to himself about nobody wanting a fat Om. "Furthermore," Dr. Leonardo continued, turning a cold stare in John's direction, "There is evidence of physical abuse. Some quite recent. Dean tells me the bruises and scars are from rough play with his younger brother. The evidence is not consistent with that assertion." Dean shrank in his chair as all eyes turned to glare at his father. Dad would not be pleased with him. "I intend to file a complaint with the Registry." 

John did a fast burn. He wasn't about to let this self important prick spoil his good fortune. "He files his report," John sneered, "We walk. And you can kiss your little bundle of joy goodbye! Ain't nobody's business but mine what happens between me and my boys. Come on, Dean!" John shoved back his chair and rose, hoping to pull off the ultimate bluff. "Let's get out of here."

Behind him, with Dean obediently at his back, John heard the Beta sob, "Cas! Stop them!"

A commotion ensued. The attorney moved to intercept them at the door. "Mr. Winchester, please sit down. I'm sure we can come to an understanding."

*

John liked to think he drove a hard but fair bargain. As he saw it, everyone should come out happy. He had a fat cashier's check, with promises of more. Lots more. The couple, in due time, would get their squalling brat. The attorney got his, no doubt, outrageous fees. Even that pompous asshole of a doctor got a payoff to salve his conscience. Wins all around.

Contracts signed and duly notarized, Castiel asked the all important question. "How soon can Dean come stay with us?"

John shrugged, feeling magnanimous. "Why not now? The quicker it's begun, the sooner it's done. If Dean's right," He said, tapping the side of his nose, "And he always is- you don't have much time to get your biologies in sync. Your Missus is going to drop an egg any day now. You'd best get ready fast."

"Dad," Dean scrambled after his father as John moved toward the door. "Now? Right now? What about Sammy?" Dean, feeling miserable about the whole set up, dared to ask. "I haven't had a chance to get stuff ready or to even tell him goodbye. Who's going to take care of Sammy while I'm gone?"

"Don't whine, boy. Your brother's not a fucking baby anymore. He can take care of himself. I'll see to it that he behaves. You just do your job, you hear me, boy? And remember, the sooner you pop their bun out of the oven the sooner you get to be back with your brother." With that, he was gone.

*

Dean sat hunched and miserable in the rear facing seat of the fancy car. The Alpha/Beta pairing sat opposite. The lady was staring at him with big sad cow eyes, occasionally spouting some greeting card verse that was supposed to make him feel better. It wasn’t working.

Meanwhile the Alpha was busy dealing with the practical side of this sudden change of circumstance. Cas phoned their housekeeper first, advising her that they would have a guest staying for an indefinite period of time. He advised her of the required dietary needs of their guest. He trusted his unflappable employee to see to things from there.

Next Castiel speed dialed his tailor. It still galled him that Winchester had thrust the Omega onto them with literally only the clothes on his back. 'Your responsibility now' the big man had taunted, waving his copy of the contract. 'apparently I can't be trusted to do the job.' Looking over at the Omega, Cas could not argue the point. The poor boy was clad in threadbare jeans and a hoodie. He must be feeling the chill in the spring air. Cas opened a storage compartment in the limo's backseat. He drew out an alpaca throw they kept handy and passed it to Hannah. 

"Alphonse, I don't know his size. Smaller than me, by a couple sizes. No, I don't want to bring him in for a fitting. Ready wear will have to do. Casual, no business wear." Cas caught the look of surprise on the boy's face when Hannah swathed him in the small blanket. He noted the boy clutched the throw with one hand and stroked it with the other. "Send a variety of sizes. Two of each to get us started. Yes, undergarments are also required. Comfort over fashion. Forgive me, Alphonse, I know that all your men's wear is of the utmost quality and style. Have a selection delivered to my home this afternoon, please. Thank you, my good man. That is splendid."

*

The car slowed, stopped briefly then moved on. Glancing out the side window, Dean saw that the car passed through an ornate iron gate set in a high brick wall. Were they taking him to a prison? Panic riveted his attention to the view out the window. A board swarth of lawn yielded to beds of flowers, banks of bushes, trees, and a fountain. Beyond the curve of the driveway, he caught a glimpse of a large structure. Too pretty for a prison, Dean decided, grasping for any reassurance. Maybe a hotel- most likely, a fancy one. Some couples didn’t feel comfortable bringing him into their home. It had happened before. A couple times. They'd put him up in a motel where they could spend a couple days together. A little vacation, one Alpha had said. The start of a new life, his Beta had added with tears in her eyes. Dean could agree to that sentiment. He liked to think he was doing his part to build families. That's what being an Omega was all about, wasn’t it? Making families was a good thing. The babies he carried were wanted and loved. They were a welcome addition to their families. That was comforting for Dean.

The car stopped at the base of some steps, two sets of stairs that curved up to a big fancy door. The Alpha pushed open the car door and climbed out. He reached back, offering a hand to his Beta as she slid across the backseat. That was nice, Dean thought. He liked that he took care of his mate. That’s how families should work. They should take care of each other. The thought of Sam, alone in Dad's care, stabbed at Dean's heart. Sam wasn’t good at keeping his mouth shut or his head down.

The Beta lady bent down to peer into the car. She extended her hand. "Come with me, Dean." She beckoned. "I'll get you settled ."

Clutching the soft blanket, Dean obeyed.

*


	6. Chapter 6

The place was big. Really big. Dean tried not to stare as he followed the Beta into the house. He wanted to stay close to her. Maybe it was just their biologies beginning to resonate. Whatever. Dean felt better being near her. He hoped she felt the same. It would be easier, more natural if she did. Dean shuddered, remembering past times when unions had to be forced.

"Oh, Cas, he's shivering'" The woman exclaimed, as she tucked the throw more tightly around his shoulders. "Let's get you inside. You're not dressed warm enough to be out in this chilly air."

The Alpha opened the door and stepped aside, allowing the woman to lead him inside. One look was enough to make Dean's jaw drop. The place seemed even bigger on the inside. The ceilings soared to the heavens. And way up there was a huge glass and light thing hanging. It dazzled his eyes, mesmerizing him. The woman stopped, but he didn’t. They collided. He nearly knocked her off her feet. She was saved from falling by the quick actions of the woman waiting within.

"Miss Hannah, are you hurt?" The woman, steadied the Beta as she glared at Dean. She was conservatively dressed, neat as the proverbial pin and ram rod straight. Dean knew at a glance that she didn’t like him, didn’t approve of what he was.

"Thank you, Naomi. I'm fine. Just a little bump. That’s all. Please don't fuss." She smiled, trying to gloss over the incident. Naomi was old school, very set in her ways. Hannah remembered how she'd nearly been scared off by the dour housekeeper during their first year of marriage. If only the woman would smile once in a while! Cas had assured her, over and over again that it wasn’t personal. Naomi had been with the family since he was a child. It was just her way. Hannah vowed that she would tell Dean that as soon as they were alone. She wanted him to be comfortable in their home for the duration of his stay.

*

Hannah took his hand and led Dean up the sweeping staircase. The chandelier was even more impressive at eye level. Dean loved how it sparkled and shimmered, shooting out hundreds of little rainbows. The carpet beneath his feet was thick and soft. Big framed pictures hung on the wall. Horses, mainly, set in lush landscapes. They didn’t draw Dean's interest. The whole place was beyond his experience, way beyond his expectations.

"This will be where you will stay." Hannah opened a tall, solid wood door. "I hope you'll be comfortable. The bath is through there." She pointed toward a closed door. "The closet-“ She swung open another door. The emptiness of the walk in, except for two pillows and a blanket stored on the high shelf, surprised her. "Oh, the clothing Cas ordered hasn’t arrived yet, of course." She laughed lightly to cover her embarrassment.. "I guess even the inimitable Monsieur Alphonse can’t work miracles."

Dean stood frozen at the threshold. This one room was easily two, maybe three times the size of any motel room he'd ever shared with Dad and Sammy. It was light, bright, welcoming. The walls were a pale shade of blue. A trio of draped windows formed an alcove, two plush armchairs and an ottoman were stationed there. An ornate little table stood between the chairs. It held a flower arrangement in a cut glass vase. Real flowers that filled the air with a subtle pleasing fragrance, so refreshingly different than the harsh odor of bleach and disinfectants that Dean associated with his usual lodgings. Flanking the alcove were bookcases filled with books and interesting geegaws. Dean bet that Sammy would spend days exploring the options there. A large chest of drawers, beneath a gilded mirror was positioned on another wall.

And lastly there was the bed. Dean had never seen the likes of such a bed. It dominated the room. It was huge. Easily wide enough for three to lay upon comfortably. The headboard was tall, taller than Dean. It was carved out of some kind of pretty dark wood- leaves and flowers, maybe some mythical creatures. The carvings were repeated on the footboard.

"I hope you will be comfortable." Hannah looked around with growing desperation. What else should she say? Everything had happened so fast. This morning she had been hopeful. Now here he was, this stranger in their house who would carry their baby. What more could she say? "Um, well. Maybe you'd like a little time to, rest. Or, um, relax and get accustomed to the place. I'll just, um, be downstairs." She checked her watch. "Lunch should be ready at one o’clock. You'll join us, please."

Dean nodded. Pretty certain he didn’t have any alternative.

*

"Sir, I am sorry. I misunderstood your instructions. Obviously I should have prepared the apartment over the garage or the poolside cabana. I shall remedy the situation at once."

"You've made no mistake. I intended to house the young man in the guest chamber."

Naomi stiffened even more. "Sir, is that advisable?" Mr. Castiel was a good man with a soft heart. And a soft head- as his choice in a bride demonstrated. In so many ways he was still a little boy. There were times he needed to be reminded that his actions had consequences. Dire consequences. "Sir, there are any number of valuables in this house. The 'young man'," Her nose wrinkled up like she smelled something foul, "May steal you blind. Or murder you and the Missus in your sleep!"

"Really, Naomi. I hardly think he's a threat." Cas found her concern too ridiculous to consider seriously. "Does he look like a murderer to you?"

The housekeeper tsked her indignation at his casual attitude. "The young man is essentially, a hired servant. And should properly be housed as such." It was her duty to uphold the dignity of the household, even if he refused to do so. He still had so much to learn.

Hannah overheard their exchange as she started down the stairway. Naomi was at it again- holding to her usual rigid standard. Well, Hannah decided, she might not have had the courage to fight for respect for herself. But she could speak up for that poor boy upstairs. Her voice rang out, loud and clear. "That young man is here to provide an invaluable service to our family. Castiel and I expect you to treat him with the utmost dignity and respect. Is that clear, Naomi?"

"Of course, madam." The housekeeper answered stiffly. "As you wish." She turned on her heel. "I shall be in the kitchen supervising the midday meal preparations."

Castiel waited until Naomi was out of earshot. He reached for Hannah's hand and drew her into his arms. "Is this the lioness defending the pride?" He asked playfully as he bent to kiss her lips. "I've never seen you stand up to her like that." He kissed her again, longer. "I think I like a strong woman."

Hannah felt a little unnerved realizing what she had done. "Sometimes she just makes me so mad. She treats you like a five year old and me, like a street urchin! I'm the lady of this house, not her!"

Castile looked at wife with unabashed adoration. "Yes, you are."

*

The door closed at his back. He didn't hear the telltale snick of a lock but Dean chose not to test it. Where could he run after all? Even if he could find his way back to the motel for Sammy, Dad would never let him stay. He would be punished. Rightfully so. He had a job to do here. No ducking out of that responsibility. 

Rooted to one spot, Dean did a slow turn surveying his new world. This was some place! Definitely too good for him. He eyed the gigantic bed. It was not for him. A bed like that was meant for an Alpha/Beta pairing. When the time was right, he would be expected to join them. But not now. What would Dad say if he could see him in this place? Dean cringed, hearing Dad's voice in his head. 'Remember your place, boy! Don’t get uppity or you'll earn yourself a beat down.'

Dad. Sammy. Worry weighed him down. Lately, Dad and Sammy clashed on almost anything. Sam was nearly fourteen now, a teenager. Like every teen, Sam thought he knew how to fix what was wrong with his world. That was bad enough but the little idiot didn’t know enough to keep his mouth shut. Sometimes, Dean would swear Sam picked a fight with Dad on purpose. Oh, crap, what would happen to Sammy without him there to run interference?

Fear, dread, helplessness combined. Dean just wanted to crawl into a deep hole and hide from his own thoughts, from the world. He looked around at the luxurious accommodations. No holes here. His gaze came to rest on the empty closet. The barren space suited his mood more than this fancy place. Dean stepped into the closet, pulling the door shut at his back. As the door closed the lights turned off automatically. The darkness took him by surprise. Dean clutched the soft throw more tightly around his body as he sank into one corner. The darkness suited his mood. This was his place, not out there.

*

Sam hustled back to the motel with a purpose. All day while going through the motions at school, he had been worried about Dean. His heat was coming on fast. The physical stuff was bad enough. Then you throw in Dad and his money grubbing schemes on top of it... Sam didn't understand why Dean put up with it. If it were him, he'd tell Dad to go to hell and strike out on his own. No way would he let Dad use him like that.

But Dean just put up with it. He'd bow his head and say 'Yes, Dad' like their father knew what in the devil's name he was doing. And that was another thing - why was Dad the only one allowed to cuss. If he so much as said one 'fuck' or 'shit', that would earn him a cutting glare from Dean or a smack in the mouth from Dad. And if he was being honest with himself, the disapproval from De hurt worse than Dad's blows.

He was used to Dad losing his cool and taking it out on him, on them. It wasn't right but it was something you just had to live with. Sam knew if anyone found out, if he told someone at school about it, Dad would get into big trouble. He might even get thrown in jail. That possibility didn't bother Sam. But what would happen to him and Dean did. Chances were good that they would be separated. It just wasn't worth the risk. Dad was quick with his temper and his belt but at least they were together. 

Key in the lock, with one quick turn, Sam slipped into the motel room. He flipped the light switch to lift the shroud of darkness. And found no one. Dad was supposed to take Dean into the city for that all important 'meet and greet' today. That much he knew. He had seen them drive off in the Impala while he waited for the bus. He thought- he hoped they'd be back before his school day was done. No such luck. Sam swung his backpack down onto the bed. He threw himself down beside it. Crap! It was happening again. Dad was selling Dean again. Well maybe not selling him, renting him actually. But that was just as bad. Sam knew all about the birds and the bees, the Alpha/Beta/Omega triangle, the sloppy sandwich as the kids called it when adults weren't listening. He knew what happened when his brother disappeared. In a few days he knew Dean would come back carrying. And for months to come, Dean would grow a baby for some strangers. It wasn’t right, to Sam's way of thinking. It just wasn't. Dean deserved better. Sam wanted him to have better.

But there was nothing he could do for Dean. At least not now. Sam fantasized often about being big enough and strong enough to take on Dad. One day, he promised himself, he'd punch Dad out and take Dean far away where they would both be safe and happy. One day but not today. The only thing he could do now would be to keep his head down and take care of himself so Dean wouldn't have to worry. First order of business was checking his food supply. It had been a while since Dad had taken them to a grocery to stock up. 

Sam rummaged through the box stashed under the bed. A couple boxes of Mac and cheese. One can of spaghetti-O's. Six ramen noodles packages. Half a box of farina, the tasteless mush that Dean ate for nearly every meal. And a sleeve of saltines. Add to that the emergency jar of peanut butter that Dean insisted he keep hidden in his duffel. And there were the two apples he had scored at lunch today. He hadn't been able to trade his homework for a treat like the cherry pie he'd brought home yesterday but fresh fruit was always good too. Sam surveyed the stash. He wouldn't starve. He could stretch this to last for two weeks, maybe more. Dad would probably turn up before the food ran out. Hopefully he wouldn't have drunk up all of the payment for Dean's service. John Winchester with cash in his pockets was a dangerous man, especially to himself. 


	7. Chapter 7

Burdened with the selection he had ordered from his tailor, Castiel rapped lightly on the door to the guest suite. He waited for an answer. None came. Cas knocked again, louder. No response. He knocked again, louder, longer. Still no response. More than a bit concerned, Cas tried the door. It wasn’t locked. "Dean?" He called as he cracked open the door and stuck his head inside. "Dean?" 

No answer.

Concerned, Castiel stepped inside. There was no sign of the Omega. What the heck? Where could he be? Castiel tossed the packages he carried onto the bed as he surveyed the uninhabited space. He wouldn’t have run away, would he? The Omega didn’t seem like he would be the rebellious type. He seemed too scared to disobey. It looked like his father kept him on tight leash. Maybe that was the problem. This might all be a scam perpetrated by the father. Get the payment, snatch back the Omega and move on to fleece the next desperate couple. He had heard that it happened. Please, dear God, not here. Castiel didn't think either Hannah or he could handle the disappointment now that they had gotten their hopes up. And the kid didn't seem the type to be complicit in anything that underhanded.

Cas noticed the closed bathroom door. Maybe the kid was just taking a bath. A nice hot soak in the tub. That conjured up images that made Castiel's pulse quicken. Disciplining his wayward mind, Castiel realized that Hannah wasn't the only one being affected by the presence of an Omega in the house. The pull of basic biology was a powerful force in nature.

Cas rapped on the inner door, calling the Omega's name once again. There was no answer from within but a thump and a muffled reply sounded behind him. Perplexed, he turned to study the room again. The sound repeated. It seemed to be coming from the closet. The closet? What in heaven's name... Castiel pulled open the double doors.

*

"Hit me."

John tossed back a whiskey shot as the dealer turned up a deuce. The dealer had given herself a nine, to go with the eight in front of her and stayed. With a six as his first card, John had no choice. 

Jack of Spades. His fucking lucky card! A winner every time! As the dealer paid out, the waitress circled with another round of drinks. She was a saucy little redhead with a dancer's body. Her sweet, teacup sized tits were nicely displayed by her uniform. John liked that show. And her round little ass, well, he'd sure like to get his hands on that, too. She rewarded him with a flirtatious wink when he dropped a fifty dollar chip on her tray. He could afford to be generous with the tips. He'd walked in with $2k in his pocket. He had left the rest of the payment for Dean's services safely stashed in the trunk of the Impala. He wasn't an idiot. He just wanted to have a little fun! Celebrate a well made deal! Enjoy the lights and the excitement of the casino. Soon enough he'd have to head back to the grim reality of that motel room where Sam, no doubt, would be waiting to bitch at him about his brother.

John tossed back another shot. Not yet, he decided. The night was young. He'd nearly doubled his stake at the blackjack table. Time for something more exciting, more of a challenge.... Poker, roulette, craps. What would it be? He wanted to shout, 'John Winchester is in the house! And this is his lucky day! Watch me, world, I'm going to break the bank!' He chuckled to himself as he gathered his chips. 'Better not to warn 'em.' He tossed a hundred dollar chip to the dealer as thanks. John scouted the floor. Where was his luck taking him next? He caught sight of Little Red's ass sashaying toward the roulette table. Mmmm! That was as good a sign as any. John headed off in that direction, with only a slight sway in his stride.

*

"What were you doing in there?" The question was out his mouth before Castiel had time to phrase it more politely.

Those big green eyes flashed up to look at him. Castiel read fear and confusion. The poor kid. He was probably scared to death, not knowing what would happen next. Cas knew he was having a hard enough time figuring out the next step in this unprecedented adventure. The Omega might be more experienced but he was still just a kid. A kid handed around like a rental car by his own father. Cas' mood darkened at that thought. He scowled.

The Omega dropped his gaze. He didn't want to seem impudent. "Waiting." He answered simply then quickly clarified. "Waiting to be of service." The throw from the car was tangled around the boy's feet. The big toe of his right foot poked through a hole in his sneakers. If the kid was wearing socks, there must be a matching hole in them, Cas thought distractedly. That was immediately followed by the hope that Alphonse had sent a complete supply of undergarments.

"In the closet?" That still confused Castiel. He reached down. He unwound the throw then offered a hand to help the kid to his feet. The close proximity intensified the Omega's attractiveness. Just pheromones at work, Castiel reminded himself. It would get worse, better- more intense as the time for mating drew nearer. Cas swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. Could he really do this? In theory he knew how the triad worked. But in reality-- it just seemed there would be too many arms and legs, not to mention, other body parts to -- to-- His brain stammered. Castiel quickly decided not to think about the future. It was wiser to deal with the here and now.

The kid rose with innate grace. He was nearly as tall as Cas. But his build was slight, bones too prominent. We'll have to feed him up, Cas thought, have to talk to Chef about that. Good nutritious meals. But first... "Why were you waiting in the closet? Wouldn't you have been more comfortable out here?"

The boy looked around with outright astonishment. "Out here? Oh, this place is too good for the likes of me, sir. In here I was comfortable, sir. Very comfortable. The rug is soft and clean. It is doesn't smell bad at all." He assured Cas earnestly. "The blanket is soft and warm. I don't need more, sir. Honest I don’t."

Such basic needs. Or such limited expectations. The doctor had said the Omega had been mistreated. Castiel vowed to himself that would not happen while Dean was in under his roof. "Dean, this room, all of it, is for your use. My wife and I want you to be comfortable during your time with us. I'll confess we are new at this," Cas ducked his head, somewhat embarrassed to admit his own inexperience. "If there is anything you need, we will do our best to see you have it."

"Thank you, sir. You are very kind. But this bed is for an Alpha to share with his Beta. The likes of me should only be allowed in it for the exchange. You understand, don’t you, sir? I'll be fine right here. Really I will, sir!"

"My name is Castiel. Or Cas, if you prefer." Castiel struggled to maintain his calm. They would both have to make adjustments. Use reason, he advised himself. "But if you sleep in the closet, where will you put your clothes?"

"My clothes?" It was asked with such wide eyed innocence, that Cas felt his heart pang. He took the Omega's hand and lead him toward the boxes heaped upon the bed.

"I had these sent over for starters. You can see what you like, what fits then we can order more." Castiel pulled a random box out of one of the shopping bags. He opened it to reveal a forest green Henley. The color would suit Dean well. The cashmere blend would be both warm and kind to the skin. He held the shirt up for the Omega's consideration. "What do you think?"

The kid's jaw went slake, his eyes were full of wonder. There must be a mistake, Dean thought frantically. That shirt couldn’t be meant for him. It was brand new. Fresh out of the box. He'd seen Cas- Mr Castiel take it from its bed of tissue paper. Of course, it wasn’t for him. It must be for the Alpha. "It’s very nice, sir. You will be very handsome in it."

Cas laughed lightly, obviously they would have to work on it. "It’s not for me. This is for you, Dean! Why don’t you go take a quick shower." He pointed in the general direction of the bathroom. "While I unwrap all this. Once you are dressed, we can join Hannah for lunch."

*

While waiting for Dad to show up, Sam did his homework. Dean always said schoolwork was important. Then he read ahead several chapters in his history book. He liked learning about the past. He liked learning. Dean said it was the way to get a good job. He would need a good education to live on his own, away from Dad. That was the goal he had set for himself: to get a job so he and Dean could get away from Dad. Someday, when he was all grown up, he would be a lawyer or a doctor. He would be some one important. He would take care of Dean and help other people, too.

When Dad and Dean still hadn’t shown up by 8 p.m., Sam decided it was safe to feed his empty stomach. Dad wasn’t likely to show up this late with take out and then be pissed that he wasn’t hungry. At least Sam hoped he wouldn’t. If he was lucky, maybe Dad wouldn’t come back at all tonight. It wouldn’t be the first time. Or the last. If Dad didn't come back at least they wouldn't fight. And he wouldn't get hit. Not tonight.

*

Dean lay at the edge of the big bed, trying to relax, trying to feel comfortable, trying to quiet his thoughts after all that had happened this day. His mind raced in circles as he recalled all the wonders he had been shown. This bed- this big, beautiful, incredibly soft and warm bed was only the beginning!

There were clothes, hanging in the closet. More folded neatly in the dresser drawer. All for him! Beautiful clothing. All brand new. Not a single hand-me-down! And Mr. Castiel had actually apologized when some of the things had not fit. He hadn't been mad at all. And he had said that they'd go shopping soon so he could pick out clothes himself, more for now and more for when he was big with the baby. It likely won't ever happen, Dean told himself. People said things on the spur of the moment. Things you weren't supposed to remember and count on coming true. He knew that. Still it would be nice to have a shirt, maybe two, that were big enough to cover his belly when he was carrying.

The baby! Miss Hannah had shown him the baby's room. Just imagine having a whole room for yourself before you are even born! It was done up in yellow and green with cute baby animals painted on one wall, playing among the trees and flowers. There were shelves, filled with books and toys and cuddly soft animals. And a closet with two racks of tiny outfits stored. One in blues for a boy. The other in pink for a girl. Dean had never seen anything like it.

Mr. Castiel and Miss Hannah needed a baby. Dean could tell that they would be good parents. That made him happy to be here to be their carrier. But it puzzled him, too. If they wanted a baby so badly, why was he alone in this big bed? Did they not know how babies were made? Surely they must know the basics of Alpha/Beta/Omega biology. They were smart people. What had they said? Mr. Castiel had said this was all new to them. Miss Hannah had hinted at the same when they walked in the gardens after lunch. Maybe they didn't know exactly how to go about it... Matings could be awkward, Dean knew, drawing on his past experiences. An Omega had to be careful how he moved, where he touched, while the actual 'connections' were being made. It was important that he did not threaten the Alpha/Beta bond. Some Betas objected to being touched. That made it unpleasant when he had to penetrate to harvest the egg. Some Alphas got overexcited, spilling their seed before they were even properly inserted into his Omega channel. Others were over eager and forced the coupling before his channel was adequately lubricated. That was hurt, big time.

Dean didn’t want conceiving a child to be an unhappy or painful experience for Hannah and Castiel. They had been kind to him. And very generous. Hannah would be ripe any day now, ready to be harvested. How could he make this mating easier for all of them? Usually the Alpha took the dominant role when initiating sexual activities. Would Castiel surrender control to his greater experience? Would he be offended if he suggested it? Or should he just try to lead the way?

*

Castiel sighed wearily as he climbed into bed. It had been a long, emotionally charged day. Hannah welcomed him by cuddling up close, laying her head on his broad shoulder. Cas craned his neck to kiss the crown of her head. This was often the best part of his day. When he held the woman he loved, their bodies pressed together and they talked. 

They talked, not about anything in particular. Not necessarily anything important. Just about their day, their feelings, their hopes and dreams and disappointments.

Cas sighed again. He reached down for Hannah's hand, bought it up to kiss her knuckles. "It's been quite a day." He began with typical understatement. Tonight they both knew what the topic of their pillow talk would be. But neither knew how to begin the discussion. Neither wanted to hurt his or her partner, or their relationship. So much depended on this. Their future depended on this. Cas squeezed her hand and sighed again. He took the plunge. "So what do you think of Dean?"

"He's very sweet. Those eyes are so soulful." Hannah responded promptly. "He tries very hard to please... He's intelligent, too."

"You almost make him sound like a stray pup that we've taken in!"

Hannah shifted, rising up on her elbow to address her husband. "I know he's not a puppy but sometimes I just want to cuddle him close and make him happy. Everything seems so new and wonderful to him." She paused looking inward to assess her emotions. "I think he brings out my maternal instincts."

Cas sighed again, rolling his eyes. "I don't think maternal instincts are what needs to be aroused! How about your carnal instincts? Can you go through with this with him?"

Hannah didn't hide behind the pretense of being shocked or angry. This had to be said. Cas deserved and needed the truth. If the transfer couldn't be done through sexual intercourse, arrangements would have to be made for professional assistance. "I'd like to get to know him better, before we... We.. You know. But I think I can." She snuggled down again in her husband's embrace. Hopefully the bedside reading lamp didn't illuminate her blush. "What about you?"

Castiel's first instinct was to reassure his wife that she was the only one that aroused his passions. Then he recalled the leap of lust he had felt earlier while searching for the Omega. "There is an undeniable earthy quality about him. I think I will be able to do what is necessary." The thought of Dean lounging in the bath had been tempting. The reality of the scars he had seen on the boy's back as he tried on the clothing was daunting. "He's had a hard life, you know. I don’t think we did him a favor by paying off that doctor. It's clear the boy would be better off under someone else’s care."

"But if the doctor had filed that report, there would have been an investigation— that could have taken weeks, maybe months! We would have missed my fertility cycle. Dean is here with us now. We'll take care of him."

"And when the baby is born? What happens to Dean then? He has to go back to that man who uses and abuses him?"

"That's months, almost a year, away, who knows what will happen by then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may be taking a brief vacation from writing. Scheduled for hip replacement surgery (yes, i'm that old) on Tuesday. Not sure how recovery will be. In theory I should have ample time to write. Lucidity and motivation may be the determining factors. And of course, I’ve written myself into another corner- writing a ménage a trios, complete with original anatomical features. Why do I do this to myself?!


	8. Chapter 8

He stood discreetly out of sight. It wasn’t spying, he told himself. If he was guilty of any sin, it might be eavesdropping. But it was with the best of intentions. If he was to be proficient in his duties, he had to know what was up with the Mister and his Missus. He couldn't rely on she with the broomstick up her arse to give him an adequate assessment of the household affairs. Affairs! Crowley quirked an eyebrow as he studied the new addition to the house. The Omega was a looker, for sure. A bit on the scrawny side, though. Aye, but that's where he came in.

"I assumed you would be spending the day with him."

"Castiel, dear. I can not miss this meeting. I'm chairwoman of the committee. You know that. I have to go. And it would be completely inappropriate for a- um- a guest to come to the Beta League."

"And I have a full day of meetings." Cas dabbed the corners of his mouth then tossed his napkin onto the table in a minor show of frustration. "I've had everything rescheduled to free up my time for... for... later on."

"I can stay here. In my room, I mean." The new voice was small and hesitant. "I won’t do anything bad. I promise. Really."

He had heard enough. Crowley chose to announce his presence by whistling a jaunty tune as he swung into the family breakfast room. "Morning, Boss, Milady. Thought I’d pop in to meet our guest. See if he had any personal preferences beyond the dietary guidelines Naomi so graciously passed along." He threw a kindly wink in the boy's direction, wanting him to know that he was nothing like the witch that thought she ran the house. The kid gaped at him, seemingly frozen with fear. What the devil had been done to the lad? The Boss and his lady wife weren’t monsters or anything to be feared. Of that he was certain. And even Naomi at her worst wasn't such a terror. 

"Thank you, Crowley. That's very considerate of you."

"Think nothing of it, Boss. Just being practical. On my way to market, I am. Got to restock the larder. Might as well get some of our guest's favs, too." He smiled again at the Om. The boy was comely enough. "Say, here's a thought -- if the lad has no plans for the morning, mayhaps he'd like to come along. What do you say, bucko, do you fancy a day sampling the culinary delights to be found here and about?"

Dean knew the man was talking to him. He had been asked a question. He had to answer but had no idea how to respond. The guy talked fancy with a lilting cadence he could listen to forever. But lots of his words made no sense.

Castiel stared at Hannah who stared at him. With a furrowed brow smoothing out and compressed lips curling into a smile, they communicated. It seemed to be an ideal solution to their problem of the day. Both turned their attention to their unexpected guest. Dean sat totally bewildered, on the edge of panic.

"Let's start with introductions. This is Dean, our new and very special friend. And Dean, this is Crowley, our chef and an old, very dear friend. I think you might find a morning shopping at the Farmer's Market an enjoyable, as well as beneficial experience. What do you say?"

Dean knew how to respond to that. "Yes, sir." It wouldn't be the first time he was shared by more than one Alpha. Some believed it was necessary to prime the works for a successful breeding. He did a quick read of the new Alpha. He seemed nice enough. Dean ducked his head and shrugged his agreement.

"Well then it's settled. Grab a jacket, lad, and we'll be off!"

*

Timing was everything, Sam concluded. If you were lucky enough to get on the bus before Burt, the bully probably couldn't hassle you much. If you got on after the creep, your life was a different story. The moron just had to find some way to mess with you to ruin your day. Being a pain in the ass, apparently, was his life's goal.

As the kids filed off the bus, Sam kept his head down, desperate to blend in with the crowd. He'd already been the butt of a snide remark about his hoodie being thin enough to see through. Like he had a selection of designer jackets to chose from! Sam hunched his shoulders against the morning chill as he stepped off the bus. Toughen up, man, he told himself. It's going to get a lot worse before Spring. Philadelphia during the winter would be miserable, with or without Burt's contributions.

Keep your eyes on the goal, Sam told himself. Eyes on the goal. He made a beeline for the entrance, ignoring Burt and his buddies hitting on some girls from another bus. Eyes on the goal. The warmth of the hallway was welcome. First goal accomplished, onto number two. Sam zigzagged through the crowd intent on his destination. The cafeteria was tied for his favorite place in this school. It ran neck in neck with the library. That made sense, he decided as he joined the queue. One fed his brain, the other his body. 

Sam grabbed a tray as his stomach rumbled in anticipation. He hoped none of the other kids heard it above the general commotion. First up, juice- orange today- and a carton of milk. An apple, never pass on fresh fruits or vegetables. A pause now as kids shuffled forward through the serving lines. His stomach issued another complaint. Maybe he should have eaten something before he left the motel. Another loud rumble made the girl ahead of him turn her head. Sam smiled politely, pretending nothing was wrong.

No, he disciplined himself. It was wisest to ration out his food. He had no way of knowing when Dad and Dean would be back. A successful breeding could take as much as two, even three weeks. Crap, it was only ten days til the end of the month. Dad most likely hadn't paid the rent beyond that. Would Dad be back before then? How many days grace could he wrangle from the manager if he had to?

"What will you have, son?"

Sam looked up, peering beneath the fall of his hair, giving the serving line lady one of his best puppy dog /sad eyed faces. (When he had practiced them in the mirror at the motel, Dean had said no Beta could turn down that face.) "Some of the eggs, please. And a slice of ham if it's allowed."

The lady smiled warmly at him and dished up a generous scoop and a half of the egg casserole and two slices of ham. "Enjoy your breakfast." She added as though she really meant it. Sam gave her the appropriate 'thank you' and a shy smile then hurried off to a far side table. He wondered if he had laid it on too thick. He didn't mind scamming the nice lady. The food wasn't coming out of her pocket. If anything his con, probably made her feel good about her day or at least, her crappy job. But it didn't pay to stand out in the crowd. If anyone starting looking too closely at him, they might realize that he and Dean had filled out the school paperwork and forged Dad's name. That could bring the authorities snooping around. That would mean trouble.

*

"Come on, Red! Move that sweet little ass of yours!" John growled as he grabbed the milk white hips of the woman posting on Big John. He used his strength to hasten her movements, increasing the pace to his liking. She gave a sharp cry, maybe of complaint, maybe of delight. It didn't matter to John. He was only intent upon achieving his own orgasm. He tightened his grip. One. Two. Three. Yes! Yes! Yes! Aaaaaaah!

Sated, he collapsed upon the mattress. Blissed out, his eyes closed, as he savored the echoes of sensation. The woman pulled off his waning erection. He didn't mind, he'd never liked the clingy type. But she could be a bit more considerate of his equipment, John thought with a grunt as she elbowed him in the gut. 

"Watch it, Red! You'll damage the goods!"

"Me name is Rowena." She sniped at him in her saucy foreigner way. "As I've told you afore." Why did she even bother?The big oaf was snoring before the words had left her mouth. She climbed off him and out of the bed. She was done with the big hairy gommer. She'd been comped along with the room to keep the mark on site so that he would wager more after a satisfying tumble or two. She'd done her part. Management couldn't expect more of her, could they?

A lass had to see to her own self, she thought as she headed into the loo. The mirror wall above the wash basins offered a stark view of the bruises marring her body. The blighter had hands of steel, he did. And he was none too careful with how he used them. He'd damn near choked her the first time she'd gone down on him! Her scalp still hurt from the grip he'd had on her locks! Enough! She was done with him! She'd wash the stench of him off, slip back into her uniform and be off before he woke.

Decision made, Rowena swung around to consider the facilities offered in the luxurious bath. A shower would be quick and easy. But a soak, a good long, bubbly one, in the jetted tub there would be heavenly. She had time. Out in the bedchamber, the bastard was snoring up a galestorm. She started the water running, added a bath bomb, then two. Maybe there was some champagne left. If not, room service could bring up more. And some finger food too. She had worked up a bit of an appetite. Rowena shrugged into a plush robe as she went for the phone. Indeed, it wouldn't be her pocketbook taking the hit! Speaking of pocketbooks, hers held a good five hundred in chips. At least the bloke was grand with his tips. As she waited for room service to answer, the thought came- Maybe she should stay on? A lass had to take advantage of opportunities when they arose, after all.

*

Everywhere they went, his host, his guide, his- Crowley was greeted with enthusiasm, bordering on reverence. Shopkeepers brought out their choicest wares to offer the man. Tastings were readily provided. Complimentary coffee, tea, or wine were offered repeatedly. Dean sampled many delectable tidbits in the effort to determine his palate- whatever the heck that was. Crowley coached him to be discerning. It wasn't enough to say the apple tasted 'good'. Did he prefer the sharp tang of the Granny Smith or the mellow sweetness of the Honeycrisp or the soft powder of a Northern Spy? To Dean, who thought all apples were red and a rare treat, it was a bewildering dilemma. And the process was repeated dozens of times with hundreds of foodstuffs. For Crowley, it wasn't enough to eat, one had to eat well!

For the household, Crowley selected steaks-- fist sized cuts of beef, well marbled and dry aged. He chose seafood. Miffed that the calamari was day old, he opted for swordfish. And he placed an order for three dozen scallops, fresh caught he emphasized, to be delivered the next day. He selected cheeses of all varieties, introducing Dean to the salty delight of fresh curds that squeaked when you bit into them. He bought a host of vegetables, many that Dean never knew existed. These he didn't make Dean sample, assuring him that properly prepared all would be delicious as well as nutritious.

By the time they returned to the mansion- home for the duration of the contract- Dean's head was spinning and his belly was stuffed. Never in his wildest imagination had he dreamed such wonders existed. The food, the places, the people were so beyond his previous life experiences that Dean would have said it was all an impossible fantasy. Then the deliveries started to arrive, leaving no doubt that the morning's adventure had been real. And through it all Dean had only one regret, that he could not share this wonderful bounty with Sammy.

*

After a long, grueling day of trying to cram two weeks worth of work into one day, Castiel arrived home to a quiet house. It was, he recalled belatedly, Naomi's night off. Her absence was understandable and surprisingly welcome. He didn’t need anymore flak, however inconsequential, tonight. Hannah, likely had already retired. Or maybe she was somewhere in the house with Dean. That didn’t arouse the expected jealousy. Which surprised Cas. But it was as it should be, he rationalized. The more time the two-- the three of them spent together, the easier the upcoming mating should be. At least that's what all the experts advised.

Tired, hungry, Cas deposited his overcoat and briefcase in the foyer. As he wound his way through the house, back to the kitchen, he loosened his tie and shrugged out of his suit coat. It was too late to roust Crowley for a meal. And truth be told, he was too tired to wait for or eat one. Just a snack, would do. Crowley might have left him a plate. If not, there would be something. Chef made it a point that no one went hungry in this house. Aiming for the fridge, Cas wondered idly how his old friend had managed on his shopping expedition with their new addition to the household. It likely had been an insightful outing for both.

Not bothering with the lights, he headed for the fridge. He swung open the stainless steel door. Two covered plates were prominently positioned. A post-it note was attached to each. They read: 'Hungry' and 'Really hungry' in Crowley's familiar scrawl. Castiel's mouth quirked into a smile. His friend knew him well. He selected the lighter meal.

"There's fresh bread in the bin." A quiet voice announced as he shut the door. Cas firmed his grip as he turned. He should have known Crowley would be about, looking out for his welfare, no matter the late hour. Castiel detoured to the bread box to snag a couple of rolls. They weren't still warm from the oven but he was confident they would be tasty.

Crowley sat at the bistro table by the French doors leading out to the little herb garden he cultivated. He tilted his head, raising an eyebrow in invitation. Silverware and a wine glass were already waiting at the seat opposite him. Castiel carried his late supper over to join his old friend.

"Long day, Boss?" Crowley raised the bottle of Chablis offering to fill his glass as Cas nodded wearily. "I may be wrong but most boss men don't put in fifteen hour days."

"They do if they want to be successful." Cas answered as he forked up a bite of Chef's salad. "At least sometimes, when they have to." He spoke around the mouthful. "This couldn't have come at a worse time. We're in final negotiations on the Seychelles resort."

"You've got good people, smart people working for you. Make them earn their keep. Let them work the deal."

Cas snorted in disagreement, "Not that easy. If I step back now, it'd likely queer the whole deal." He tore a roll in half, slathered on the herb butter Crowley pushed his way. "We'd lose millions." The bread was as good as he anticipated. The subject of the conversation was not. "Shareholders," He tipped his glass to include Crowley, "Would never forgive me if I blow this."

"They might if you didn't hold yourself to such bloody ethical standards! Any other bloke in your position would hire an Omega from a third world country at his convienence and likely at a fraction of the the cost." Crowley shook his head in exasperation. "But not you, my friend, you have to play by the rules. Set an example for the masses. Are you bucking for sainthood, man? Or martyrdom?"

"I'm not a saint. As you well know." Cas paused to sip the wine. "I don't pretend to be an angel. But I do believe, fervently, that if you try to do the right thing, God or karma or the universe will pay you back. It's not something you can turn off or on when it suits your sense of convenience. You either live by your principles or you don't."

Crowley had heard this argument before. "Eat your dinner, man! Before you choke on your morals."

For Cas, the wine suddenly tasted sour in his mouth. He had already compromised his principles. Dean's presence in his house was proof of that. Was it possible that just this once the end justified the means? Hoping to share the burden of his thoughts, he turned the late night conversation.

"How did your morning go? What do you think of Dean?"

"He's a right enough lad. Curious and eager to please. I think the cheeky lad was expecting me to jump his bones, for starters." Crowley grinned devilishly. "Once we got to market, he forgot such foolishness. He was ever so busy oohing and aahing over the slightest doodad, to worry about that. Wherever did you find the lad? The middle of a cabbage field, mayhaps?"

"Hannah picked him out, from the Registry's short list. She liked his eyes." Cas shrugged as he forked through his salad, rearranging the lettuce and extras. Guilt threatened his appetite. "His agent-- who said he was his father-- drove a hard bargain." Cas locked eyes with Crowley. "He's a hard man. There are scars on the boy's back."

"Bloody bastard." Crowley swore under his breath. "Bugger 'im!" He'd known the lash of his Da's anger.

"I bribed the consulting Doctor not to report the abuse." Castiel confessed. "Rewarded the bastard with a premium contract. All I could think of was giving Hannah a baby. Not what was right or wrong. Or legal."

Crowley read the guilt and self-recrimination on his friend's face. "Like you said, man, you're no angel. No one expects you to be perfect." Except yourself, Crowley thought but didn't say. "You do the best you can. The lad is safe with us now. And soon you and the Missus will make the bonniest of bairns!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can surmise, I made it through surgery and am well on the road to recovery. But I will admit that a couple of nights of not sleeping well, gives you lots of time to write. P.T. starts today. Oh, joy!


	9. Chapter 9

"Relax. Just relax. The first lesson is getting comfortable in the water. I'm here for you. Nothing is going to happen." Hannah coaxed in a gentle singsong voice that she hadn't used in years. "Relax. Let the water support you. I've got you."

From his first tour of the house, Dean had been fascinated by the swimming pools. The only time he'd seen anything like it was on that old TV show where the hillbillies called it the 'cement pond'. Imagine living in a house that actually had one. And not only one but two! One outside and one inside. The water was so clear and warm.

"Isn't this nice? Aren't you glad we had Mr. Alphonse send over these swim trunks?" Taking Dean's shy smile as affirmation, Hannah continued, "Did you know the first time I met Castiel was in a swimming pool?" Her smile grew with fond memories. "Not this one, of course. Up at Lake Mongehilley, that's in the Catskills. At his family's resort." She looked down at Dean. "Or I should say, one of his family's resorts. But I didn't know that then, none of us did. He was just one of the team." The memories flowed. "I was barely seventeen. My first real job, the summer between my junior and senior year. A girlfriend and I got jobs as life guards. We gave swimming lessons too."

She laughed at the rush of memories. "I taught Cas to swim. At least I thought I did. It wasn't til the end of summer that I learned he was captain of his water polo team. He had used the ruse of trading lessons to get to know me!" She shook her head still having a hard time believing that someone- especially someone like Cas, had gone out of their way to make her acquaintance.

"What did he teach you?" Dean asked quietly as he floated with minimal support. He was enjoying this time with Hannah. In his previous contracts, he'd never gotten to know the Alpha or Beta that he served. This was so much nicer!

"Lots of things!" Hannah laughed again. "But first and foremost, riding. I was a city girl. I'd never been on a horse before. He taught me horse basic training -- feeding, grooming, even mucking out the stalls-- as well as riding! With Cas, it was all fun, even shoveling manure." She withdrew her support gradually as she continued talking. Now Dean was free floating in the water, completely relaxed, entranced by her stories. "Nearly everyday, at the end of our shifts, we would go out riding, exploring. The countryside was so green and lush. We'd find a nice spot to stop, unpack the picnic Crowley had made for us. He was working there too, in the cafeteria. He always teased that he was going to steal me away from Cas." Color rose on her cheeks as she recalled those long ago, fun filled days. "I'd never had two guys vying for my attention. It was so romantic! I was such a plain Jane. I don't know what either of them saw in me."

"You aren't plain." Dean protested mildly. "I think you are pretty." He dared to add.

Hannah's face lit with a smile. "You're very sweet." Impulsively she bent and kissed his cheek. The unexpected gesture startled Dean. He hadn't been kissed by anyone since their father forbid goodnight kisses between Sammy and him. Caught off guard, he stiffened and sank lower in the pool. He floundered briefly until Hannah's sure hands righted him. Embarrassed by her own impulsive behavior, she hurried back to safer territory. "Lesson number two: Blowing bubbles."

*

From her vantage point of the third floor atrium window, Naomi watched the byplay in the pool below. She couldn't hear what was being said, of course. She didn't have to. It was all so- so unseemly. Bringing a creature like that into this house! What was the young master thinking of, to do such a thing! The desire for an heir was understandable but quality counted in all matters, particularly a breeding. Surely Mr. Castiel knew that. 

The frown that permanently resided on her face deepened into a scowl as she watched the scene unfold. Really! What more could be expected when you matched a thorough bred with a wild mustang then threw in a pack mule. She sniffed in indignation. It was quite uncalled for. So sordid. An Alpha of Mr. Castiel's standing, had options, quality options. Yet he chose to squander his birth rite. As his choice of wife so plainly demonstrated!

Naomi tugged her tailored jacket into place. It was her responsibility to see to the smooth running of this house. Without her supervision, who knew what might happen! The 'lady of the house', she sneared mentally, wasn't content with society life. She wanted to live a "purposeful life". It was bad enough that she flitted about lending the family aegis to this cause or that. But she had persuaded the Beta League to sponsor several charity activities, as well as to open their membership to working women. The very idea! The Beta League was intended to be the elite of society, not Rosie the Riveter! The days of the Grand Cotillion were numbered, Naomi could see that. If she didn't defend this house, the missus would be bringing home any ragtag stray she found on the streets!

*

Sam tried to read the flyer out of the corner of his eye. Something about Winter and keeping warm. Sam was all in favor of that. He ducked his head lower. Probably just an announcement about an upcoming dance or some such nonsense. He didn't want to be caught looking too interested. The nice lunch lady had passed them out, placing a couple on each of the cafeteria tables. No big deal. Most of the kids didn't give the flyers a second glance. Burt, the Bully, balled one up to bean one of his victims at a table across the way. Sam kept his head down, ate his lunch, hoping to avoid any trouble.

Plop! A scrunched up flyer landed dead center in Sam's bowl of chocolate pudding. Laughter erupted from Burt's table. A triumphant shout of 'Three points!' sounded in that familiar hated voice. Apparently, Burt's aim was as good off the basketball court as on.

Sam stared at his befouled dessert. The urge to smash the bowl and its contents into that smug, smirking face was strong. He could do it. He'd probably get beaten to a pulp by Burt and his buddies but it would be satisfying just to land even one punch. Maybe two.

Then practicality interceded. This school had a strict non-tolerance policy on fighting. If he punched Burt out or tried to, he'd end up in the principal's office. Then they would call Dad. Or try to. What would happen when John Winchester didn't show up to discuss his son's misbehavior? At minimum, Sam figured he'd be suspended a week, maybe two. Or worse, the authorities would find out he was on his own, living in a fleabag motel, waiting for his deadbeat dad to return. That would get him thrown into real trouble. Most likely he'd be sent to the county juvie center. He might never see Dean- or Dad- again. Revenge wasn't worth the risk. Sam swallowed his pride. He hunched his shoulders, hung his head. Hair flopping in his eyes, he picked up his tray and went to dump the remains of his lunch.

As he sorted the recyclables from the compostables, the dishes from the silverware, a quiet voice spoke. "Sorry about that. That boy thinks he runs this school." It was the nice lunch lady. She tsk-tsked, shaking her net covered head. "Why does he have to be like that? Here!" She thrust a brown paper bag into Sam's hands. "You need to put some meat on your bones! You're a growing boy!"

Ellen watched the sad-eyed teenager hurry off. He had managed a stunned, vague 'Thank you' before turning tail and disappearing into the crowd of students. He worried her, setting off all her maternal instincts. Every year there was always a few kids that did. She and some of the other staff tried to help, as discreetly as possible. The need was always greater than their meager resources. Ellen looked over to the poster tacked on the cafeteria bulletin board. It advertised the Beta League's first annual (hopefully) winter coat give away. Her brainchild, with her dear friend, Hannah's backing and organization skills. It was their first attempt to involve the Beta League in a socially relevant project. With any luck, Ellen thought they might drag the venerable organization into the 21st century. With the members' influence and finances, there was so much more they could do for their community than host fancy dress parties. 

*

"What's put a twist in your tail?" Crowley demanded disinterestedly, as he eyed the ramrod straight figure in the doorway to his domain. He and Naomi had worked out a truce of mutual loathing many years back. They didn't have to like each other to do their respective jobs. Mostly they stayed out of each other's way. The fact that they both cared about Castiel and his wellbeing made it possible for them to coexist in the household. And, truth be told, tossing a few barbs at the prim spinster was always a refreshing break in his day.

Naomi pinned him with a steely eye. She was in no mood for any of his shenanigans today. "I came to check on the dinner menu."

"Since when do I need your dabbling to put a meal on the table?"

"There are concerns about the nutrition, or lack there of, of that-" Her lips pursed with distaste. "Creature."

"That 'creature' has a name. It’s Dean. And he is a likely enough lad if you'd just give 'im a chance. You got something against 'im or is it Omegas in general that put a bug up your bum?"

"Don't be vulgar!" Naomi chastised. Why had she thought that this heathen might be an ally in this matter? For an Alpha with his pedigree, Fergus Crowley, could be a most cantankerous individual. There was no doubt that he was the black sheep of his clan.

A spark of bedevilment lit Crowley's eyes as he put the finishing touch on the cherry tarts he was preparing for the oven. "Or is not the lad that gets your haunches in a lather but the thought that the Mister and his Missus will be doing the dirt deed and then some!"

"You are truly a disgusting man!" The housekeeper pivoted on her heels and strode out of the kitchen. The bark of the chef's laughter rang in her pinked ears.

*

Sam hustled back to his locker. Curiosity made him peak in the bulging bag before he stowed it. His eyes popped at the contents. There were protein bars, juice boxes, raisins and a lot more piled beneath a folded piece of paper that he had pulled out. This was a windfall of food stuff that Sam had never expected. It would easily see him through until Dad's return! Dad's return- that thought made his stomach knot with guilt and apprehension. Dad wouldn't like him taking charity. Winchesters stood on their own, stood together and took care of their own. That was a principle John Winchester had taught his sons from an early age. It was at the core of his Marine training, a basic value he instilled in his sons by hard lessons and rigorous training.

He should turn around, Sam knew, and take this sack of good intentions back to the nice lunch lady. He should tell her thanks, but no thanks. He wasn't a charity case. Winchesters took care of themselves. He could take care of himself. Sam wanted to believe that. He wanted to live up to Dad's demanding expectations. But the reality was that he was a geeky, skinny 13 year old kid who was always hungry, always cold and too often alone. He was stuck in a rat trap motel, waiting for his father and his brother to return. Sam thought of his dwindling food supply. He would be an idiot if he blew off this windfall. The lunch lady was just trying to help him get by. Sam closed his locker, securing the bounty.

With any luck, Dad would never know he'd taken it. Sam tried to convince himself of that but the a niggling part of his brain reminded him: Dad always knew.

Frustrated, filled with doubt, Sam unfolded the paper he'd pulled out of the bag. It was another copy of the flyer from the cafeteria. It advertised a winter coat give away sponsored by the Beta League. It said there would be coats for every member of the family. All free. Sam re-read the flyer. There had to be a catch. There was a map, showing the church where the event would be. Sam figured it was a mile, maybe two from the motel. It said free to all comers. Sam shivered, reliving the cold that had penetrated his layers of shirts and hoodie as he waited for the bus. A warmer coat to get through the winter would be an incredible score. Did he dare go? If he did, how would he explain it to Dad?

*

Castiel breathed a sigh of relief to be home. It had been a long day in a long week of wrapping up business so he could devote his attention and energy to personal matters. Personal matters... 

The steady beat of heels against the marble floor announced Naomi's arrival. How did the woman always know the moment he stepped into the house? Did she have sentinels posted, or what? He wasn't a child anymore. He didn't need her constant supervision. After his parents' untimely deaths, it seemed natural that Naomi transition from nanny to housekeeper. He had needed her support and continuity during that terrible time. But lately she seemed to be taking on too much authority. Castiel didn't like the way she undermined Hannah. Not that Hannah ever complained.

"Good evening, sir. Would you like a cocktail or a glass of wine before dinner? Chef set aside a plate in the warmer. Or I could have him to prepare something to order." 

Was that a glimmer of delight at the prospect of interrupting her coworker's evening? "Don't trouble Crowley or yourself. I grabbed a sandwich before I started home. Where's Hannah? And Dean?"

"The Missus is ensconced in the solarium." Her nose rose higher, nostrils flaring with distaste. "With the houseguest." A minimum of words, to convey maximum disapproval. "They 'frolicked' in the pool most of the afternoon."

"Good! That's great! I wish I could have joined them."

A look of sheer horror paled Naomi.

"Maybe tomorrow." Cas added just to bait the woman. Was it any wonder that Crowley took such pleasure in tormenting her. Her self righteous attitude practically begged to be the brunt of someone's jests.

*

"Look. Maybe this will help." Hannah said, as she did a quick sketch. Beneath it she printed 'b-e-d'. "Think of the word 'Bed' to help you remember which letter is 'b' and which is 'd'. See 'b' is the headbroad and pillow. And 'd' is the foot." She looked over to Dean to see if he got the point of her illustration.

"Reading is hard." He confessed sullenly. "It's a waste of your time, trying to teach me. I'm just too dumb."

"You are not dumb." Hannah was quick to retort. "You just never had a chance to learn. You told me yourself that you couldn't start school when you should have because you had to care for your little brother. I think that when you finally were in school, you probably were so good at covering up that you had never been taught to read, that none of your teachers even tried very hard to help you."

Dean flashed back to to his childhood. School was never a good place for him, not like it was for Sammy. He learned pretty quick that he was different from the other kids. There was so much he didn't know. And other stuff that he did- like it was his responsibility to take care of Sammy. He had to be tough, Dad had taught him that. He was quick with a smart comeback. And quick with his fists. It was better to be a discipline problem than to be a dummy. At least the kids didn't mess with you then. And the teachers let you skate through their class, happy to see you go on to the next grade where you would be someone else's problem.

*

He found them cuddled together on one of the wide chaise lounges. Dean was snuggled tight to Hannah's side, their heads bent over a book or something. Logically the sight of his wife curled up with someone else should have provoked a degree of jealousy. Or at least irritation. The fact that he felt neither made Castiel pause just inside the doorway. He felt- what did he feel? Interested? Excited? Aroused? All of that and more.

It was the combination of pheromones, of course. Even if his olfactory sense wasn't acute enough to detect it, he knew what to expect. Hannah was close to ovulating. Dean was ready to carry. Nature was readying him to do his part. Castiel felt his shaft stir. The theoretical could soon be reality.

"You two look very comfortable." He began as he stepped closer. His entrance startled them into action. Hannah focused on him, trying to gauge his response. Dean started guiltily, pulling back like he expected to be hit. Castiel immediately regretted ruining their intimacy. He wanted to share in the moment, not violate it. "I'm sorry to interrupt. You looked so cozy..." He fumbled for words, momentarily unsure of his direction.

Damn it, he was the Alpha, ego asserted. It was his place to lead. "Perhaps we should adjourn upstairs." Both regarded him with wide eyed wonder. "Where we could all get more comfortable." He held out his hands in invitation to each of his partners, as he clarified. "Where it would be more private."

*

Dean released a silent sigh of relief. The Alpha was taking charge. That was as it should be. He did a cautious deep inhalation to assess their readiness. Hannah wasn't quite ripe yet. Soon but ovulation wouldn't happen during this first mating. Castiel was rising to the occasion. The release of his musk was thickening the air. Good, good. No doubt that would be the final trigger of ovulation.

Hannah took the offered hand. Dean was quick to follow her example. They rose from the lounge simultaneously. Their bodies already in tune with the other. Castiel drew Hannah to his side. He bent to claim her lips, molding her body to his. Good, good. The Alpha was claiming his mate, scenting his territory. 

Dean held himself slightly apart. He was the subordinate. In no way was he an equal in this relationship. Never, in the previous contracts, had he been accepted as an equal. It was for the Alpha to define his role. It was expected, accepted that he wait while the true mates pleasured each other. He had to be ready, willing and open for when the Alpha wanted to attempt the transfer.

The initial penetration was usual rough, often painful. But he was prepared to withstand it. Dad's rigorous training served its purpose. The Alpha had to subjugate him, claim his body as his own. At least temporarily. Sharing the Beta was not done willingly-- or gently, for that matter. The Alphas seemed to tolerate him best when he submitted wholly to their use of his body. If he offered no resistance, full penetration could be achieved with a single thrust, maybe two. Once knotted, he was simply an extension of the Alpha's body. If he kept quiet and compliant, the Alpha would guide his ovireceptor into the Beta's vagina with a minimum amount of fumbling or discomfort. He only had to endure, let his body do as nature had designed it. A few days of such trinings had always achieved their purpose. He caught quickly and carried well.

That was his job- his role in this world. There were worse ways to make a living. He liked making families. He liked Hannah and Castiel. It would be his pleasure to carry their baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that it has taken me so long to add this chapter. I've written and re-written it a half dozen times. Still not sure I'm telling the story right. But resigned that this is the best I can do. At least for now. Maybe I'm too old to write porn?


	10. Chapter 10

Hannah hummed a lighthearted tune as she dressed for the day. Practical clothes. Nothing too fancy. She would be working today- helping people in need. It looked to be a very good day.

The day had certainly begun well. Hannah glanced over at the sodden ruin that was her marital bed. She blushed, recalling the night's activities. Their entwined bodies... It had been a passionate night. Followed by a equally satisfying morning. They had lingered in bed, touching, cuddling, kissing. Eventually the day's responsibilities had intruded. Yet no one was eager to part ways. A shower had seemed like a good idea- the facilities were large enough to accommodate three bodies. Three willing, enthusiastic bodies. Helpful hands spreading soap and sharing shampoo had become adventurous, then amorous. It didn't take long for passion to be renewed.

Or to discover that three way sex in a wet, porcelain tiled area was a precarious, if not downright dangerous endeavor. It was only logical to return to bed. That they were soaking wet hadn't mattered at the time. The only thing that was important was interlocking their bodies in that delicious combination that peaked in shared ecstasy.

Hannah's blush deepened as she came to a startling realization. Some time during the night, their efforts had shifted, at least in her mind, from making a baby to pleasuring one another. Was that wrong?, she wondered. And was she the only one who felt that way? Did Castiel feel the same way? And what about Dean? How did he feel?

Hannah caught sight of the bedside alarm clock. She was going to be late. She forced herself back to the here and now. She didn't have time for in depth contemplations, not now. She had things to do and places to be. But first things first. With minimal effort, she stripped the linens from the bed. She had no intention of leaving this incriminating evidence for their judgemental housekeeper. Let Naomi stew and speculate, a quick trip to the laundry would eradicate the details.

*

Sam stared out between the grimy slats of the motel room's Venetian blinds. Of course, it would have to snow today. He suppressed a shudder, thinking about the long walk he was contemplating. By the time he got to the church, he would really need that warm coat.

Maybe he should just forget the whole thing.

The snow was really kind of pretty. Big fluffy flakes that made everything look fresh and clean. Nice, like something from one of those Hallmark Christmas movies. Yeah, but what those chick flicks never got right was that snow was cold. And when it melted on you, it was wet.

Maybe he should wait and try talking Dad into buying him at coat at Goodwill or the Army Surplus store. There should be some money from Dean's latest contract. If Dad hadn't drank it all or lost it in a poker game.

Again Sam looked out at the falling snow. Dad and Dean had been gone five days now. He had no idea when they'd be back. For all he knew, the motel manager might kick him out into the cold before Dad showed up to fork over the rent. Sam looked down at the crumpled flyer. This was an opportunity he couldn’t afford to pass on. Sam resigned himself to the long cold walk. Even if Dad would probably give him hell for it when he finally did show up. Sam hunched his shoulders and dropped his head. His hair flopped into his eyes, veiling his misery. The way he saw it he was damned if he did. And damned if he didn't. It was hell being a kid.

*

"Get your fucking hands off me!" John roared. Security obliged, giving him a not so gentle assist out the casino's doors. John stumbled, caught himself by grabbing onto some potted shrubbery. With legs wobbly from too much whiskey, he managed to right himself. He shrugged his leather jacket into some semblance of order. "You goddamn apes! You were happy enough to have me when I was flush!"

The muscle team stood firm, arms crossed, barring the entrance. "Go home, man. Sleep it off. You can't go around harassing the help."

"That little red haired bitch spread her legs fast enough when I was winning." John shouted back. Several passing patrons eyed him with distaste. John didn't care. If Red would just spot him a chip or two, he could get back in the game. He needed to recoup his losses. He'd built his initial stake nearly tenfold before his luck had soured at the poker table. "That goddamn crooked dealer! He fleeced me! You- all of you- stole my money!"

The security men had heard it before. Most losers had the grace to slink off quietly. But there were always enough belligerent bastards to guarantee their continued employment. The senior man shifted his hand to rest on his Tazer. "Go sleep it off. Try your luck another day."

"John? John Winchester? Is that you?" A gruff voice from the past broke into the standoff.

John turned bloodshot eyes in that direction. It was hard to focus. The face was familiar. The hair, the beard greyer than he remembered. The woman at his side, a bit rounder. "Bobby? Karen?" The shock of seeing them sent a rush of adrenaline to clear some of the alcohol fogging his head. "What are you doing here?"

"Second honeymoon." Bobby announced with pride. "Promised my bride I'd take her back to Atlantic City. Just like the first time, only better!"

"Are the boys here?" Karen rushed to ask. "It's been so long! I'd love to see them. They must be almost full grown now."

The boys. His boys. Memories flooded in. Good ones chased by bad ones. Anger, guilt, paranoia built, peaked in his muddled brain. He had to get out of here. Get away before they stole his boys. Mary's boys! "Get away from me!" John pushed away from the planter's support. He shoved past Bobby, and Karen, his dear old friends. Ha! They just wanted to steal his boys! He staggered toward the parking ramp, got his feet under him and broke into a clumsy lope. He'd get his boys and get away from all of these thieving bastards!

*

Dean watched them closely. They were so beautiful together. Smiling. Happy. Loving. Their good cheer spread and multiplied among those around them. Crowley felt it. The chef had been fretful, task oriented when Dean had first entered the kitchen. Now he was trading quips with Castiel and flirting outrageously with Hannah. And every so often he threw a devilish smile and a wink, Dean's way.

It felt good to be here. These were good people. They were all working to load Crowley's Land Rover with more food than Dean had ever seen in his entire life- huge pots of meaty stew, trays of wrapped sandwiches, tubs of homemade cookies. He had helped some in preparing all this, whatever this was. Crowley had welcomed him into his kitchen, promoting him to 'sous chef', whatever that meant, as Dean proved useful. Dean liked to help. It was nice to be part of their comradrie. It was almost like being part of their family.

"Should you be lifting that?" Crowley chimed in as Dean bent to pick up a bushel of apples. They were all so sweet, pampering him just in case he was already carrying. It was too soon to know for sure, of course. But Dean thought it likely. They had mated successfully a number of times in the course of the night. And again this morning. Only Hannah called it, 'making love', a phrase which Dean much preferred over the usual 'fucking' or 'knotting.

*

Waaahooo! Another horn blared at John as he barreled down the highway. The car he had just passed had swerved onto the shoulder, worried about being sideswiped. That would teach the fucking bastards to stay out of his way! He was on a mission. Full alert! Tacticals deployed! He had to get to his boys before they were stolen from him! Paranoia combined with the alcohol still in his system to fuel his flight.

He had to get back to Philly. Had to. Had to think. Had to plan. He'd get Sammy first. Grab their stuff and book it out of that fleabag motel. No worries there. There'd be another one down the road, somewhere. There always was. They'd lay low, keep to themselves. No school. Sam would whine about that. Tough shit! Kid was already too smart for his own good. No take out. They'd survive. He kept a supply of MREs in the trunk. Complete lockdown, that's what they'd do until John could figure out the next step.

John fumbled for the flask in his jacket pocket. Only managed to get it out without dropping it because he had years of practice. He needed a drink, just a little one, to steady his nerves and to lubricate his brain. He had to think, to decide.

Should he snatch Dean out of that sweet bank roll of a deal? Grab him and go. Or should he leave Dean shacked up with Daddy Warbucks and Miss Prim and Proper? Shit! The whole deal could be a plot to steal Dean away. Waving those big bucks under his nose. Nobody paid that kind of money for an Omega's services! He should have known better...

John demanded more speed from the Impala. He had to get back to save his boys.

*

Was it better to move at a steady walk or to jog as best he could? He had to keep a sharp eye on his footing. Snow wasn't only cold and wet, it was slippery. The faster pace should get him there quicker but he'd nearly fallen a couple of times. Spraining an ankle or breaking a bone would be real trouble. He was past the point of no return, he figured. The church was closer than the motel now. Five or six more blocks. Seven at the most. He couldn't get there soon enough. He was wet to the skin, frozen to the bone. He wiped his runny nose on his sodden sleeve. Cursing under his breath, Sam figured he probably would end up with double pneumonia from this stupidity. He clenched his jaws to stop his teeth from chattering.

A cop car cruised by. Sam went on alert. From an early age, Dad had drilled into both his sons to be wary of the authorities. They could royally fuck you over, according to John Winchester, for no good reason other than that they enjoyed doing it. Sam's heart rate accelerated as he saw the cruiser's brake lights come on. It pulled a wide u-turn. Shit, it was circling back.

Keep walking, Sam told himself, trying to control his shivering. You didn't do anything wrong. Try not to look guilty. Just keep walking. The cruiser pulled up along side of him, inching forward, matching his pace. Shit and double shit. Sam fought down panic as the passenger window rolled down. 

"Hey kid, come here. Talk to me." Came the order from inside. Sam did a fast debate. Should he obey? Or should he run? He wasn't likely to get very far. Maybe he'd be better off using his brain rather than his feet. Sam angled to the curb. Delicious warmth spilled out the open window. Sam couldn't help but be drawn to it. He bent down to peer into the police car. To his surprise, a woman, a female cop, was the driver. "What are you doing out in this crap? Where are you headed?"

Sam tried to answer, wanted to, but nothing but a harsh cough came out. John Winchester's rules on dealing with the law, circled in his head: Keep your head down. Be polite. Cooperate. Then run like hell, the first chance you get. Sam hacked back a snoot full of snot and tried again. "Going here." He managed as he pulled the bedraggled flyer from the pocket of his jeans. 

The officer, a dark haired woman with pretty eyes, nodded knowingly. "I thought that might be the case. Come on, get in. I've been ferrying folks to the Beta ladies' shindig all morning." She tossed her head backward. Sam shifted his attention to see a family, mom, dad and three little ones, piled in the backseat. "Come on get in. You're letting all the heat out."

Despite Dad's rules, the offer was just too damn good.. Sam opened the door and took the shotgun position.

*

The wet sloppy snow that fell as he returned to Philadelphia, only served to darken John's already foul mood. Roads were wet and slick. People, drivers acted like they'd never seen snow and had forgotten how to drive in the crap. Pedestrians seemed to think they'd magically gained the right of way. The Impala's passing left a long string of curses and several minor fender benders as John bullied his way back to the cheap dive that was temporarily home. He pulled into the lot, parked haphazardly across two spaces. He didn't give a shit. They'd be out of this dump before anyone could raise a stink.

John charged up to the steps, slotted the key in the lock and flung the door open. "Sammy, get your shit together. We're--"

Only Sam wasn't there. Where the hell was that damn brat!

*

"I'm Lieutenant Mills. For today at least, since I'm officially off duty, you can call me, Jody." She smiled at him, obviously trying to put him at ease. She reached over to crank up the heat, angling the cruiser's vent in Sam's direction. Sam clenched his jaws to still his chattering teeth. It seemed the polite thing to do. The lady cop was talking. "In back, we have the Fitzgerald family. Garth and Bess. Little Gertie and the twins."

"Howdy!" "Pleased to meet you." Were the friendly responses from the back seat.

"And you are?" The officer asked pointedly.

He had to snuffle back more snot to answer. "Sam." He swiped his forearm across his face and brushed dripping hair from his eyes, trying to look more human.

Jody reached into the center console, pulled out a Roll of paper towels and passed it to him. "Help yourself, Sam." She turned the corner, her attention seemingly focused on the road and driving. "Almost there, folks. You can see the church spire up ahead." They drove past a minor two car collision, with another patrol car in attendance. Jody gave a nod to the officer as she passed. "This heavy snow, early cold snap caught everyone by surprise."

*

"Tess? Tess, where are you?" Naomi called as she inspected the second floor. "Where has that useless girl hidden herself." Normally she would not have raised her voice to summon the day maid but the family had departed early for Hannah's big event. Naomi sniffed derisively. Hand outs to bums and lowlifes, was more like it. How could Mr. Castiel sanction such squandering of time and resources? She thought she had raised him better than that!

The maid came rushing from the service wing of the house, carrying a basket of fresh linens. The housekeeper eyed her critically. "What are you up to, girl? The laundress doesn't work Saturday. You know that!" She snapped.

"Yes, ma'am. I do. But the missus," She took a second to catch her breath, "Miss Hannah asked me to see to these." Her eyes went a bit wide with shock as scfhe reported. "She put them in the washer herself, ma'am!"

Naomi's expression soured even more. She poked at the fine linens with unveiled distaste. Perhaps she should order them thrown out, as she had that creature's original wardrobe. No, she decided. Let the lady of the house live with the consequences. "Remake the master bed using these."

"Yes, ma'm, it will only take me a few minutes to iron these properly."

"Unnecessary. Why bother? The linens are adequate as they are. But be sure to air the master suite thoroughly." Naomi turned on her heels, she had wasted enough of her precious time on this disgusting matter. Tess stared after her, not quite sure, she had heard correctly. The stern housekeeper was a stickler for details. Had she just been ordered to make the master bed with wrinkled sheets?

* 

"We could use another tray of cookies!" Hannah announced as she swung into the kitchen of the church's community center. Ellen was right behind her. "And more sandwiches too."

"You've got 'em" Crowley answered with satisfaction. Feeding hungry people tasty and nutritious food was what his profession was all about, or at least it should be. "That is, if the boy-o, over yonder, wasn't eaten'em all. I swear the lad is half squirrel- stuffing his cheeks all the day long!"

The men had been assigned kitchen duties while the Beta ladies ran the show out front. Dean glanced up from his job of refilling the constantly emptying trays. Even though he was caught with a half eaten cookie in hand, he didn't let the chef's remark make him feel bad. He was used to the man's ways by now. "Someone has to test the quality of your cooking." He dared to quip. Cas, Hannah and Ellen, as well as Crowley himself, all swung around to stare at him before breaking out in approving laughter.

Sobering, Hannah picked up one tray. Ellen, another. "How is the supply of stew holding out? Everyone loves it! Most folks are asking for seconds, even thirds. Should we limit servings?"

"There's still plenty. And if need be, I've pots of chili back at the house, we can fall back on." Crowley assured her. "Let's let'em fill their bellies. A hot meal is needed on a day like this. There's plenty for all." His friends at the markets had been generous with donations. Times were hard. The need, real. This collection and distribution of winter coats, a new helping hand by the Beta League, was cause people could readily support.

*

Jody ushered in her latest carful. They were a timid group. Like most of the indigents she'd ferried over today, they didn't know what to expect. These rich Betas generally turned up their noses as they pretended not to see the poor and the homeless. Life was hard on the streets. You learned to guard your back or you didn't survive. Jody understood that. As a police officer, she saw the dregs of humanity struggle to make it through another day-- begging on street corners, rummaging through dumpsters for food, sleeping in doorways and on heating vents. As a police officer, she also saw when they failed. With winter coming on fast, she and others in the department that cared, hoped this coat give away might spare someone from freezing to death. That's why Command had sanctioned off duty personnel's involvement as transportation. And it seemed to be working. She had ferried over more than a half dozen groups herself. The church hall was nearly full with folks chowing down or sorting through the racks of coats. Jody decided she'd warm herself with a cup of joe, and maybe snitch a cookie or two, before she rounded up a group for the return trip to the streets.

"Lieutenant Mills," Ellen began as she handed over a mug of coffee. "It's good to see you again. You and your men have been wonderful, helping us this way."

Jody took a sip. Hot and strong, just the way she liked her caffeine. "Serving the needs of our fair city, ma'am. Happy to help." Jody let her cop's eye rove over the crowded room. "You're doing good work here, ladies."

"We hope to make a difference in people's lives." Hannah added. "There's so much need! It's hard to know where to start."

"How about by helping that family over there." Jody nodded toward the young couple with their children that she'd just brought in. "They are an interesting story. They're transients, from Arkansas. Driving the sorriest, beat up old pickup truck that I've seen in a long time. Thing has one of those campers on the back. That's where I found them. Broken down, just off the toll road. Them all huddled in the camper, trying to keep warm. They're trying to get back to the Ozarks. Believe it or not he's just graduated from dental school. On a scholarship. Going back to set up a practice in the community they grew up in. Says he'll be the only dentist for a hundred miles or more.

Ellen and Hannah were both studying the family now. "I'll give my nephew, Ash, a call." Ellen began. "He's good with mechanical things. He and his buddies are always looking for something to get their hands dirty on." 

"They don't look old enough to have babies! They are hardly more than babies themselves! They must start early where they come from." Hannah exclaimed. "Is the boy their Omega?"

"Oh, heavens, no! They're not together. I picked him up on the way in. A few blocks out. Who knows how far that kid walked. He’s soaked through."

"Oh my god, it's him!"

"Him who?"

"The boy! The one I was telling you about. The new kid at school. The one who looks like he's always trying to disappear into the woodwork."


	11. Chapter 11

"Where the hell is that stupid kid?" John muttered as he refilled his glass. "What shit is he up to now?" He downed a mouthful of whiskey. "Fuckin' kid!"

His need to flee dulled as his anger grew, as the liquor flowed. He gulped the remainder of the glass' contents. "Damn brat. Never listens. Thinks he knows everything." He tipped up the bottle again, draining the last of the golden liquid. "Trouble from the day he was born." 

The pain of losing Mary struck fresh and sharp. John upended his glass, trying to drown it. The whiskey did little to ease his grief. There wasn't enough whiskey in the world to alleviate his suffering. Frustrated, tormented by memories and possibilities, John flung the empty glass at the flickering television. It connected with a semi-satisfying crash. If his life was shit, why shouldn't the rest of world be useless shit, too?

*

With a cocked eyebrow and a twist of his head, Crowley redirected Castiel's attention to the third member of their kitchen crew. Dean sat quietly at his station, his features slack, his hands idle, seemingly lost in thought. Castiel's eyes widened, his forehead wrinkled in confusion. "What?" He mouthed silently, having no idea what his old friend was getting on about.

As casually as possible, Crowley moved within whisper range. "Lad's stewing over something. You'd best go confab with 'im."

"Me? Why me?" Castiel blurted out, instantly feeling out of his depth. "I’m a businessman, not a shrink. You're friends. You talk to him. Or let me get Hannah. She's good with that kind of stuff."

"The ladies are busy clucking over the blokes out front." Crowley dismissed his dodge. "And I’m not part of this," His fingers sketched a triangle in the air, his eyebrows waggling suggestively, "this relationship. You are." He cuffed his pal on the back of his head. "Man up, bucko! What if the lad is feeling poorly 'cuz he's caught?"

That got Castiel's undivided attention. Hannah would never forgive him— he would never forgive himself if his inaction endangered their baby in any way. Damning his interpersonal ineptitude, Castiel steeled himself to approach the young Omega.

"Dean? You okay?"

The sandy head lifted. The lush lips curved into a shy smile. "I’m fine."

"You’re awfully quiet." Nearing him, Castiel felt the pull of the Omega's sexuality. Was it just the allure of a ripe carrier? Or was it something special about Dean? The attraction was was more than he had anticipated. Their time together had been much more fulfilling than he expected. It was all so confusing. What had started out as a simple business transaction was getting complicated by emotions. Was Hannah feeling the same?, he wondered. More than anything, Castiel felt the need to confer with his wife. They were in this together. Together...

"I was thinking." Dean offered suddenly, "About my little brother. Wishing he were here. He could use a warm coat." He shrugged. "We- my Dad and us- we move around a lot. There's only so much room in the car. Things have to be left behind sometimes. And Sam's growing so fast. Always outgrowing his clothes. He doesn’t have a warm coat to wear to school. I meant to talk to Dad about getting him one but..."

"But you came to live with us before you had a chance." Castiel surmised as he pulled up a stool to sit beside Dean. "You're a good brother, to be so concerned about his welfare."

Dean shrugged off his compliment. "Sammy is my responsibility. It's my job to take care of him." He stated definitively.

"What about your father? Surely, in your absence, he will see to your brother's needs."

"Dad." Dean looked away from the Alpha's piercing blue gaze. "Dad forgets sometimes. He-" Dean's love and his loyalty wouldn’t let him confess his father's shortcomings. Castiel and Hannah didn't need to know about Dad's drinking and the resulting rages. "You don’t understand. Sam needs me."

"I'm sorry, Dean, our contract specifies that you will live with us for the duration of the gestation." Castiel thought of the scars he had seen on the Omega's back. He had no intention of ever allowing his unborn child to be under John Winchester's care. He felt a sharp pang of guilt/ dread. When the time came would he and Hannah be able to relinquish Dean back to that man's control? He swallowed hard, not having an answer to that. For the time being, they didn't have to consider that. Deal with the present circumstances. Right now, Dean was worried about his brother.

"How about, after we finish here, we stop by and check on your brother." Castiel read the quick spark of excitement in the young Omega's eyes. Excitement that was just as quickly dampened. "And if he still needs a coat, we'll take him shopping. Let him pick out what he likes, whatever he needs."

The offer was tempting. Really tempting. It would be so good to see Sammy again. He missed his little brother. And he was sure Sammy missed him, too. But Dad— Dad wouldn’t like Castiel's interference, throwing his money and his generosity in his face. "Dad doesn’t like charity. He wouldn’t approve."

"Well, then we‘ll just stop in to say 'Hello'." Castiel offered smoothly. He'd seen the avarice in John Winchester's eyes. He was confident if he slipped the man a fifty, or two, the man could be persuaded to see to his son's clothing needs. And maybe they could arrange for some regular visits for the brothers. Cas didn't like seeing Dean fretting or unhappy. Dean deserved better. Far better than what he got from his father.

Dean bit his lower lip. He wanted to say 'Yes.' Every bit of his being wanted to be with Sammy, to protect him and see to his wellbeing. It had been his job for as long as he could remember-- long before Dad started renting him out to carry for Alpha/Beta couples. Just because you had a new job, didn't mean you forgot your old responsibilities. And Sammy was, Dean readily admitted, more than just a responsibility. He loved his baby brother. Always had, always would.

*

Sam tightened his grip on the blanket draped around his shoulders. Before he'd known what was happening a couple of women were stripping off his soaked jacket and shirts. 'We'll dry these for you,' they had crooned. He'd barely managed to keep his pants! These society ladies were menaces with one track minds! Through the veil of his hair, he studied the space around him. He wasn't the only blanket draped victim. Lucky for him, Ellen- apparently that was the nice lunch lady's name- she had shooed away all the other women who'd been smothering him with their concerns and attention. What a bunch of noisy hens! They fluttered about, nagging at him to do this and that. It was a real pain in the ass. Who did they think they were? His mother? Not hardly! He didn't have a mother! Never had- at least not one he remembered. Sorrow threatened. He only had Dean. And Dean was gone.

Sam slouched lower in his seat, letting his misery engulf him. He was cold and wet and alone. Alone in a world where no one cared about him but his big brother. And Dean was...

"Here. Try this." Ellen was back, placing a generous bowl of stew in front of him. It's aroma made Sam's stomach rumble in instant interest. His mouth watered. This looked nothing like the stuff from a can that Dean heated up when they were lucky enough to score such a treat. There were huge chunks of meat among the bright vegetables! No pools of grease floated on top of the rich gravy. Sam forced his eyes away from the appetizing sight. He looked up at the waiting woman, knowing there had to be a catch. He couldn't pay for this meal, however tempting it was. "Got no money." He muttered sullenly.

"Anybody ask you for any? Go ahead. Eat up while it's hot." Ellen instructed in her no nonsense way as she took the chair across from the boy. "Chef gets huffy if his food goes cold." She sighed dramatically. "And will you stop looking like that! You're gonna have them all back over here, fawning all over you."

Sam paused, with his spoon poised over the bowl. "Like what?" He asked quickly before shoveling in a bite.

"Like a drowned puppy! Trust me. It triggers all their mothering instincts." She had to wave off a pair of approaching Betas. Her eyes narrowed on the boy. "I've seen you at school." She began as an intro then took the plunge. "Looking like you don't have a friend in the world. There are people who want to help. People whose job it is to help. Your teachers, the counsellors, if there's a problem at home, at school, wherever, you can go to them..."

Sam hunched down, over the bowl. He trusted the fall of his hair to screen his face from her scrutiny. He should just go. He should never have come! But he wanted, needed a warm coat. And the food- he'd never had anything half this good! Listening to her do-gooder speech was a small price to pay. He just had to keep his mouth shut. And keep her from seeing the tears stinging his eyes.

*

"I think Gwen has adopted them!" Hannah reported to Lieutenant Mills. "She won't hear of them going back to their camper. She's putting them up in her guest house. Plus she and several other ladies have promised donations to help him set up his dental practice. Equipment is expensive, you know. The Ozarks Dental Clinic may well become our second social cause." She added with satisfaction. "Garth and Bess are such sweet people. And their children, little angels."

Jody hoped that the Beta League followed through. Too often, it seemed to her, the rich got excited about a cause du jour- they dabbled in helping then, moved on to the next photo-op or fundraiser without having a concentrated effect. Oh, well, Jody conceded as her gaze swept over the depleted racks of coats, the remains of the food bounty, at least they were trying. And today they had done a good thing. Today they had fed and comforted several hundred of the city's neediest. They'd sent them off with full bellies, warm coats, some with blankets and tarps to battle the elements and all with bag lunches of sandwiches, cookies and fruit for another meal or two. She'd heard talk of establishing a mobile soup kitchen. Celebrity Chef Fergus Crowley was rumored to be coming out of retirement to sponsor it. She'd believe that when she saw it. The man was said to be as temperamental as he was genius in the kitchen. Oh well, whatever. For at least one day, the Beta League ladies had done good!

Across the hall, Jody saw one of her last passengers, shrugging into his freshly washed and dried clothing. The kid did his best to dress quickly with his back to the wall. But Jody had a keen eye for trouble. Something about the way the kid moved sent up a red flag. There wasn't much to see from this distance, maybe some bruising on his upper arms, a welt on his neck. It wasn't much, but the cop in her didn't like the looks of it.

As casual as could be, Jody sauntered over. "You ready to go, kid? My cab is waiting."

The boy looked up her, big puppy dog eyes that melted even a cop's hardened heart. "Yeah, sure. Thanks for the ride earlier, Officer, but I can walk. I don't want to put you out."

"Nonsense. Why should you walk, when I'm going the same way. Besides, the way Mrs. Harvell has loaded you up with goodies," Jody gestured to the bulging grocery bags on the table before him. "You'd need a pack animal to get this all back home." She hefted two of the bags, leaving two for him to carry. "Come on. You'll be my last passenger of the day."

Trapped again, Sam thought as he slipped on the new down filled winter coat that they given him. The coat was warm, with a water proof outer skin. Ellen, Mrs. Harvell, had said she was saving it just for him. How could he refuse such consideration. Maybe that's why Dad objected to charity. It bogged you down in feelings and indebtedness. Sam didn't see that he had any other choice. He snatched up the remaining bags and followed Lieutenant Mills to her squad car.


	12. Chapter 12

"What's wrong?" Hannah whispered anxiously as soon as she could get her husband apart from the others. "Did something happen. Dean seems so, so..." She groped for the right adjective, "Subdued."

Castiel acknowledged her concern with a weary nod. He'd been considering Dean's unhappiness and what they could or should do about it. "He's been thinking about his family. More specifically missing his brother." Cas looked across the kitchen to where Dean was working with Crowley. His brow furrowed. "I offered a visit. He doesn't seem to think that would be advisable." His features tightened with concern. "I never thought of the life he was leaving behind to fulfill this contract. Hannah, I confess when we started this, I thought of him as a vessel. Not a person, just a tool to get what we wanted. I thought if we saw to his physical needs that would be sufficient. Now, however, I see, he's a human being with wants and needs and feelings. And I'm not sure I know how to deal with that."

"Oh, Cas," Hannah stretched up to kiss his cheek. "You always sell yourself short when it comes to others. You are one of the kindest, most generous people I've ever had the privilege of knowing. You care about people. You care about Dean. You are not your father, Cas." Or that cold hearted witch he paid to raise you. Hannah did not voice that thought. She had resolved early in their marriage never to undermine the loyalty her husband felt to his former nanny, no matter how difficult Naomi could be. "Go with your heart. It won't steer you wrong."

Castiel drew Hannah close. They had always been honest with each other. He didn't intend to lie to his wife now. He kissed the top of her head. "Dean is becoming very important to me. Very quickly." He shrugged with her still in his embrace. "Maybe it's just that he's going carry our baby. Maybe... I think... it might be more..." He confessed, fumbling to find the words to express what he was feeling. He didn't want to hurt Hannah or their marriage, but he had to acknowledge what he felt. "I don't know. I feel... Somehow he completes me- us- in a way that I didn't even know was possible. Or desirable." He pulled back to assess her reaction. "Does that make any sense? Do you feel it too?"

Hannah smiled up at him, that sweet, giving smile that he had fallen for as a teenager. "Alpha. Beta. Omega. It's how we were meant to be. Together." She stood on her tiptoes to kiss his lips. "We are lucky to have found each other. So few do."

Hannah made it seem so simple, Cas thought. 'It's how we were meant to be.' Castiel foresaw at least two major problems with that scenario: Did Dean feel the same? And how would they deal with his mercenary father?

*

"You can let me off here." Sam said.

"Nonsense." Jody kept driving, her eyes on the wet, sloppy street. She didn't let on that she could feel the tension building in her passenger. "I'll take you to your door. Just tell me where to go."

"Really, it's alright. I can make it easily from here." Sam insisted, trying to conceal his nervousness. He didn't want her knowing where they lived. More importantly, he didn't want to risk Dad's reaction to a cop bringing him back.

"Don't be silly." Jody answered easily, well aware of his mounting desperation. Something wasn't right with this kid. The cop in her couldn't let him go until she knew what the problem was.

They cruised past a hole-in-the wall liquor store and a series of porn shops. Several seedy patrons slogged along the slushy sidewalk. At the far corner, a well seasoned veteran of selling her body to get by, spotted the squad car approaching. The pro did a neat pivot on her platform heals, clutched her purple fake fur bolero jacket closed over her displayed bosom and tried to look nonchalant. Jody didn't buy her act for a second but she wasn't looking to make any busts. She was off duty, just giving this kid a ride home, if any place in this godforsaken neighborhood merited that label.

Coming up on the next block, was a rundown motel, the Dew Drop Inn. It rented rooms by the hour or by the week. No tourist stayed here overnight, at least not by choice. Jody knew it to be a regular on the call sheets of this precinct- mostly Drunk and Disorderlies or Dealers plying their trade, with a occasional DOA from an overdose or argument. It had been shut down a few months back when the Narc squad busted a meth lab cooking their poison in one of the rooms. From the scattering of cars in the parking lot, Jody surmised the place was open for business again. Had the Health Department already cleared that dive for occupancy, she wondered as she pulled up at the corner's stop sign.

Jody took this opportunity to look over at her passenger. The poor kid was practically pissing himself with nerves. She could smell the fear rolling off him. "Hey kid, I'm not trying to cause you any trouble. Talk to me. Tell me what's wrong. Let me help." She offered.

Sam dared one glance at the lady cop. He had no doubt that she was sincere but she just didn't understand. As they rolled past, he'd seen the Impala boldly parked across two spaces in front of their room at the motel. It took everything he had to control his reaction. Dean was back! And so was Dad. And he was sure to be pissed.

As Sam saw it, he was damned if he did talk and damned if he didn't. All his life, it had been drilled into him, blubbering to the cops or teachers, telling anybody, would only get him into a heap of trouble. Dad told him to keep family stuff private or else. Sam didn't want to find out what the 'else' was. Dean warned that they'd be separated, thrown into juvie, that they'd never see each other again. Sam sure couldn't risk that. Besides, all grown ups drank booze. And dads got mad at their kids all the time. They had to discipline them. It's what dads were supposed to do. And Sam knew that this time, he had screwed up big. He had earned a beating.

A horn sounded a couple of cars back, someone impatient for traffic to move. Jody tamped down her concern. This kid was a tough nut to crack. He'd talk- eventually- but she shouldn't be impeding the flow of traffic while she worked on him. Jody took her foot off the brake. With slight pressure on the accelerator, the squad car rolled through the intersection. A car approaching from the left didn't anticipate the four-way stop. The driver hit the brakes hard, putting his vehicle into a slow motion skid. Jody saw the accident unfold. She used her training, her years of experience to avoid the collision. The car behind her wasn't so lucky. That driver pulled forward just in time to get the side of the out of control car slamming into his front end. It was a minor accident. Property damage, no casualties, likely no serious injuries but in good conscience Jody couldn't just drive on. Off duty or not, she was on the scene and a witness. Duty came first. Jody flipped on the squad car's light bar and pulled over. Grabbing her hat, she prepared to do her job..

"Just sit tight, kid. This shouldn't take long."

*

Dean always said there were angels looking out for them. It was something their mother had told him before she died. Sam always figured it was a load of crap. But now, maybe this time, it was true. This seemed like divine intervention. He did a fast ten count when the yelling started, then slipped out of the squad car's passenger seat. Leaving the door ajar, he kept low. A quick peek over the rear fender, showed the lady cop standing tall, doing her best to calm the agitated drivers. A ring of lookie-lous was gathering for the free entertainment. No one was paying him any attention at all. Without a moment's hesitation, Sam made his escape.

It took only a few seconds to clear the flashing lights of the cop car. Darkness was coming on fast like it did this time of year. That, Sam knew, was to his advantage. He was tempted to make a cross country dash to their motel room. It was less than a block away. But he could see that there were patches of undistrubed snow between here and there. No need to lay a trail for her, in case the lady cop chose to come after him. Stay calm. Act natural. Don't attract attention. Apparently he had learned something from Dad's training, after all. Head down, shoulders hunched, Sam headed down the slush covered sidewalks. He passed a few of the curious coming to gawk. They didn't seem to notice the skinny kid walking in the other direction. 

*

The cleanup complete, Hannah, dutifully thanked Reverend Jim for the use of the community center with an appropriate donation to the church. The event had been such a success they were already talking about repeating it next year.

They were all tired as they climbed into Crowley's Land Rover for the ride home. No one had much to say. Castiel, Hannah and Crowley, had already made their pitch during the cleanup. In turn, each had talked with Dean, trying to pull him out of the melancholy of missing his brother. The suggestion of a visit had been tendered again and again. Dean held to his refusal, knowing Dad wouldn't like it, knowing that Sam would suffer the the consequences. But the temptation persisted, grew. He wanted to see Sam, to know his baby brother was alright in his absence. And then there was the possibility, as Castiel had so generously suggested, of arranging ongoing visits. Maybe, Dean thought, maybe he should reconsider.

*

Sam used his key to slip quietly into the room. He was right. Dad was there alright, in his usual spot and condition- Nearly passed out at the rickety dinette table. Shit, Sam realized in an instance. He couldn't have timed his return worse if he had tried. John Winchester, sober, was a hard man, a strict and demanding father. John Winchester, drunk, was a mean, unpredictable son of a bitch. Scared, Sam did a quick scan of the room, looking for his brother and a clue as to how he should proceed. But there was no sign of Dean. His blanket was still folded in the corner. Cripes, where was Dean?

The cold air from the open door, roused the drunk. The greying head lifted as Sam eased the door shut at his back. Bloodshot eyes struggled to focus. "Where the hell you been, boy?" John demanded. The words were slurred. The anger unmistakeable.

Sam gulped. Without thought he responded with the only thing running through his brain. "Where's Dean?"

"Don't you talk back to me!" John lunged to his feet. For a big man, in his condition, he moved surprisingly fast. One swipe of his arm, snagged Sam by the scruff of his neck. John pulled his son tight to his chest. He secured his grip on both shoulders and shook the boy, determined to get the truth out.

Sam's head snapped from side to side, to and fro with John's efforts. It rattled his teeth and dizzied his brain. Dimly he was aware that babies died from such abuse. Could he survive? Dad was shouting at him, cursing him, demanding answers. Answers that even if he wanted to give, he couldn't have because of the violence in which he was caught.

Tired of going easy on the boy, John freed one hand. A backhanded blow sent the kid reeling. That would teach the smart assed brat! The boy crashed onto the table. It shifted under his weight, nearly collapsing. The strident lights of the police car, filtered by the blinds, lit the sprawled body and further enraged John. He rescued the furniture by reaching down to haul Sam upright with a grip in his ridiculously long hair. "Did you bring the fucking cops down on us!" Another blow sent Sam flying across the room in the other direction.

"Dee!" He gasped in desperation.

"Don't you go bawling for your goddamn brother." John roared. "He's not going to save you this time."

No, Dean wasn't there to save him. Sam knew the only way Dean ever spared him was to take a share of John's blows himself. There was no chance of that tonight.

*

Duty done, Jody turned back toward her unit. She was feeling pretty good about managing the situation. Tempers had flared. But she'd kept control, sorted things out and sent everyone on their way, only slightly worse the wear. She was feeling very satisfied with her efforts.

Two steps closer to her squad car, her satisfaction went poof. The empty passenger seat, the open door testified to her error. She should have known the kid would run! Damn it! Apparently she should have handcuffed the little bugger to keep him put. Problem was he wasn’t a perp, just a kid she was trying to help.

Jody asked around. She wasn’t surprised that none of the locals were forthcoming with information on the kid. She did a slow drive through of the neighborhood. There was no sign of Sam. Short of an all out door to door search (which she had neither the authority or the manpower to do), there wasn’t much she could do. The kid had gone to ground. She had tried to help. The kid had made it clear, he wanted none of it. Hell, he'd even left the stuff Mrs. Harvell had given him in the back seat when he split. She would put the word out at the local precinct. Nothing formal. She'd just like another go at the kid. Or at least, to know he was okay.

*

Crowley pulled into the parking lot of the disreputable motel with more than a few qualms. Considering the neighborhood, he decided he'd stay with his vehicle to insure its safety. Mayhaps, Hannah should stay in the car also. This didn't look like any place for a lady. As for his genteel friend, he wasn't sure Castiel would fend well here either. But Dean claimed this as home!

"Pull up there!" Dean pointed to a bare spot on the pavement where a car must have been parked until recently.

Before Crowley could put the Land Rover in park, Dean was out the car door. He rushed to a motel room with the door hanging by one hinge. Castiel scrambled to follow, with Hannah close on his heels.

*

"They ain't here." inside the decrepit motel room, the manager reported, nursing a bruised jaw. "Took off like a bat out of hell not more than ten minutes ago. I'd say good riddance but they broke up the place. And left, owing more than a week's rent." He grimaced as he shook his head. "That's what I get for being a such nice guy. Should have thrown the kid out when I had the chance. Doesn't pay to be a soft touch." He concluded mournfully.

Hannah and Castiel watched as Dean did a slow 180, scanning the room's shambles. His face betrayed his anguish. "They didn’t take anything." Dean bent to pick up a couple of books flung upon the floor. He smoothed the pages then closed them carefully. "Sammy wouldn’t leave his books. Not if he had a choice."

"Your old man wasn’t asking politely when he tossed the kid in that junker of his. Talking out of his head, more like it. Beating on the kid, some too. Roaring drunk, if you ask me. Breaking up the place. When I tried to stop him, he gave me this." The man cradled his aching jaw. "Should have kept my nose out of it. But he was breaking up my place. Should've called the cops. Let them deal with the mean son of a bitch!"

As the manager continued complaining, Hannah joined Dean in his effort to restore the room to rights. To her it looked to be a hopeless effort. The meager belongings thrown about, didn't seem to be worth saving. Yet Dean picked each up with a reverence that was heartbreaking.

"Sir, you say you are owed money." Castlel interrupted the manager's litany of complaints. "And there are obviously damages." He reached into the inner pocket of his trench coat to retrieve his checkbook. That got the man's attention. "Shall we discuss compensation?"

*

Naomi watched with smug satisfaction as the quartet returned to the family mansion. It was easy to see that the light hearted enthusiasm with which they had begun the day had totally evaporated. The reality of dealing with society's cast offs, no doubt, was not as pleasant as Miss Hannah dreamed. She had tried to tell her that it was a waste of time and resources. Throwing good money after bad. She tsked in self righteous indignation. Really! How could they not see what was so obvious to her?

They were clustered around that dratted Omega, coddling him, oozing concern and sympathy. It was sickening to see. That creature belonged in a breeding kennel, not in the bosom of a proper family. Yet there he stood, beneath a Waterford Crystal chandelier, clutching some dog eared paperbacks and a tattered Army blanket. No doubt, he was bringing vermin, more vermin, she corrected with a curl of her lip, into this house.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Iantolives, as she recovers from knee surgery.

Hannah stepped up to embrace Dean, hoping to comfort him. He stiffened in her arms, his face expressionless. She felt like crying, seeing him like this. So lost. So alone. She threw an anxious glance to her husband. Do something! She wanted to scream. Help him! Do anything to ease his pain! Please! Her eyes begged.

Castiel understood her anguish. He felt it too. He wanted to help the Omega. As the Alpha, he was supposed to be the protector. He was supposed to be the provider of answers, as well life's necessities. But he didn't have the answers. Wayward thoughts and confusion hammered him. He was as lost on how to proceed as the others.

"It's been a day. We're pretty knackered." Crowley spoke up, the voice of reason. "Rest is what's needed. I'll send a tray up with a light supper, eh? How's that sound, mates?"

Hannah gave a tepid affirmation. She started up the stairs leading Dean. The Omega made no response, moving stiffly at Hannah's urging. To Crowley's way of thinking, the lad looked to be in shock. He would be in need of tender care to ease his heartache. One look at Hannah's sympathetic countenance assured him that she was on board. Cassie, on the other hand, seemed to be more befuddled than usual. For a successful businessman, there were times his friend could be quite a turnip in the rose garden! Crowley pulled him aside. He handed over the pair of duffel bags that they had filled with the possessions salvaged from the Dew Drop Inn. He added his advice, as well. "I'd say that bloke needs a friend tonight, not an Alpha- if y'catch my drift." By the blank look on Cas' face, Crowley figured he had better spell it out plain for his friend. At times you had to be blunt with Castiel to make your point. "No shagging tonight, man, ye hear."

Castiel blushed beet red to the roots of his dark hair. Sometimes, even for a best friend, Crowley went too far. Cas had never been, never would be comfortable with locker room talk. He nodded a stiff acknowledgement, mumbled something incoherent and hurried up the stairs with his burden.

*

"You'll feel better after some rest." Hannah assured Dean as she guided him down the hall. "We've all had a long day. Everything will look better in the morning after a good night's sleep." She glanced back worriedly for her husband, knowing that she was spouting worthless platitudes. Under the circumstances, it was all she had to offer.

They paused at the door to the guest suite originally assigned for Dean's use. He hadn't spent much time there of late, not since he'd been welcomed into the bed the Alpha shared with his Beta. But tonight... "Do you want some time to yourself? Would you like to be alone?"

Dean nodded, numb to his core. Alone. Of course, he should be alone. He was alone. Why would anyone want him? Dad had taken off with Sammy. Abandoning him... Leaving him alone... This Beta, this Alpha only wanted him for the child he would bear. Did they even want him as their carrier now that they had seen his sordid roots.

He was alone, unwanted. Necessary but unwanted. Omegas were never intended to be solitary beings. They needed the support of a family. Alone... Alone... It echoed through his being. Without a word, Dean stepped into the beautifully appointed guest room that would never be a place of comfort for him. He was alone.

Castiel joined them, stepping in only long enough to deposit the duffel bags just inside the door. "We'll leave you to get some rest. If you need anything..." He trailed off, not knowing what more to say. With a ineffective shrug, he stepped back and pulled the door closed after himself.

Dean was left alone. Abandoned.

*

"Oh, Cassie." Hannah sobbed into her husband’s chest. "He looked so devastated! How could his father do that to him? How could he take off like that?"

Castiel took a deep, cleansing breath. His head clearing from the unprecedented influence of Omega stress pheromones, Castiel could be more rational now. "Sweetheart, to be fair his father had no reason to expect us to be there today. He didn’t really abandon Dean. We have no idea why he left so precipitously. It could have been for any number of reasons." Cas hugged her close, soothing her distress. He spoke with quiet confidence, "There’s one thing I’m sure of- a man like John Winchester- doesn’t walk away from a cash cow like his Omega son. He will be back. Of that I am sure. However I doubt Dean would take much comfort in that."

The question that troubled Castiel was, would Winchester be satisfied with the generous payments he was due? Or was he desperate enough to come for Dean prematurely? It might be wise to take precautions. An increase in security was an easy matter to arrange.

*

Naomi brought the promised tray to the master suite with a rigid spine and an air of disapproval. When Hannah opened the door, the housekeeper had no sympathy for the woman's reddened eyes. Whatever the problem, in Naomi's estimation, this woman was likely the cause. She had brought nothing but consternation into the house from the day she was carried over the threshold. Naomi glanced about the room as she bore the tray over to the suite's sitting area. She saw no sign of the wretched Omega. Perhaps Mr. Castiel was finally coming to his senses! Her ward was seated comfortably, conversing on the telephone. He seemed calm and self possessed. The epitome of a gentleman/business man. Naomi nodded with approval. "Good evening, sir. Chef sent this up." She said quietly, as she set the tray on the small table. She was pleased to see an ample selection that included many of Castiel's favorites.

"Did you leave a tray for Dean?" Hannah interrupted, at her back. "He's in the guest room." She added for clarification.

Naomi answered with an arched eyebrow. "No, madam. I did not. Chef composed only one tray." She made little effort to veil her vexation. She was neither a delivery man nor a pack animal, after all. "Chef has, I believe retired to his rooms. Shall I instruct him to compose an additional tray?"

"No, oh, no, don't bother Fergus. There's plenty here. I'll make up a plate for Dean. And take it to him myself." Hannah decided quickly. "Thank you, Naomi. That should be all for tonight. You may retire."

Miffed at the abrupt dismissal, the housekeeper nodded stiffly before retreating.

*

Hannah carried the plate she'd filled to the guest suite. She'd feel better, she told herself, after checking on Dean. Maybe, if he was willing, they could talk. Or she could read to him. A bedtime story to soothe him to sleep. The thought of helping ease his troubles fortified her. She didn't feel it was right that he be alone tonight.

She knocked politely at the door.

There was no answer. She knocked again, louder. Still no response. Concerned, she turned the doorknob. Within there was no sign of Dean. The bed was undisturbed. Nothing seemed out of place. The well worn bags were still perched near the door.

"Cas! Cas!" She jumped to the only conclusion that made sense to her. "Come quick. He's gone! Dean's gone!"

*

"Calm down, Hannah. Think. We left him less than twenty minutes ago. He can't have gone far. Maybe he went for a walk in the garden. Or a dip in the pool."

"No, I know something's wrong. I can feel it." Hannah insisted, pacing the guest suite. Her apprehension was growing by the minute. She turned to confront her husband. "Can't you feel it? Can't you feel his pain? His- his loneliness?" She hugged herself trying to contain the ache. "We should never have left him alone.

With her prompting, Castiel too could feel Dean's pain. He had mistaken it for the bleed over of Hannah's panic and his own worries. But now he felt its true source. Cas turned slowly, letting his primal instincts work. He was the Alpha, the hunter, the protector, in search of his mate. He reached out, clasping Hannah's hand. Two united seeking their completion.

The pull of need grew, orienting the couple toward the closed door of the closet. Castiel murmured "Of course," as he opened the door. The lights came on automatically, illuminating the cubicle. There, beneath the neatly hung, new wardrobe, was Dean. He was wrapped in the old blanket, the dog eared paperbacks clutched to his chest. He blinked in the bright light. The subliminal scents emanating from the Alpha/Beta pair hit him, demanding response. Hannah was ripe. It was finally time for the transfer and fertilization.

Dean swallowed hard, knowing his role despite his personal problems, "I am needed."

Hannah read the bleakness in the usually shining eyes. She answered from her heart, "Not needed! Wanted!"

Wanted- the word made all the difference. They were there for him. The Alpha bent down, scooped him up into strong arms. The Beta was at his side as she would always be. Her words and gentle touches, soothing as well as exciting her mates. They left this place of emptiness, of aloneness. The Alpha carried him to their joining place.

*

Dean gasped as Castiel thrust deeper. Deeper. Oh, deliciously deeper. Automatically his hips arched forward, snugging the tip of his ovireceptor tight against the Hannah's cervix. She responded, shuddering and clenching beneath him. Oh, yes, he moaned aloud. This, this was it. This was wonderful. Amazing.

Cas continued to move, the pace quickening as his knot began to form. Soon, soon...

It shouldn't be like this! Dean thought, striving in vain to maintain his equilibrium. How could it be this delicious? His previous matings had been nothing like this. Oh, oh more! Oh, yes! More! Before... he struggled to draw a breath... before the exchanges had been hurried, clumsy penetrations. Sometimes even painful. Never had there been this delightful synchronization of motion and pleasure. Three bodies, three individuals should not be able to move like this, mesh like this. This wonderful symphony of sensation that grew and grew and... Oh! Oh!

It had had to stop. He couldn't take anymore! Too much! Too much sensation!

He didn't want it ever to stop! More! More! More! Move! Don't ever stop! Never stop! Never!

*

Castiel pulled back, his knot catching at Dean's rim. Instinct drove the Alpha to plunge back into the Omega's depths, locking them together for the insemination. Alpha, Beta, Omega united as Nature had intended them to be. With a groan, he came, spilling his seed into the greedy Omega channel. Somewhere beyond his own existence, he heard Hannah's trill of ultimate satisfaction. Did her orgasm signal the release of the ovum? Beneath him, Dean stiffened then went suddenly limp. The ultimate Omega submission! A triumphant growl emerged from Castiel's throat.

Drained of energy as well as semen, Castiel fought to maintain his position. He wanted nothing more than to collapse in exhausted satisfaction. Consideration, love demanded him that he must not. He shifted minutely, feeling the solid lock of tender body parts. With the utmost care, he moved. He maneuvered. He got his knees firmly planted, braced with his arms and shifted his weight, their bodies to the side. Pain threatened but relief beckoned. Castiel moved again. Their bodies still locked as one, tumbled gently over onto their sides. He heard Hannah's sigh of relief as the pressure eased on her slight frame. 

Cas drew his own shaky breath, relieved that the maneuver had worked with a minimum of discomfort. Now they could rest, relax in the afterglow of their lovemaking. He stretched out his upmost arm, stroked the length of Hannah's bare flesh, he nuzzled the nape of Dean's neck. Oh, this was Alpha nirvana! He never wanted to move again! This was as they should always be: three as one.

"Everyone okay?" He asked languidly. The Alpha in him had to be sure of his mates' wellbeing.

Hannah answered with a murmur of contentment.

Dean managed a sleepy purr of satisfaction. At his core, a tiny bud of warmth sparked. It was a familiar, welcome sensation. His lips parted in an 'O' of wonder. Duty required that he report their success. Castiel snuggled closer. Hannah stretched to kiss his lips. He liked kisses, Dean thought vaguely. He dared to answer in kind. Tomorrow, he decided, in the morning, would be sooner enough to share the exciting news. Now, he wanted only to savor their togetherness.

"Let's get some sleep." The Alpha whispered to his mates. Contented sighs were his only answer.

*

Naomi was not at all pleased to be summoned by the security intercom at this early morning hour. Whoever was calling would get a piece of her mind served by the lash of her tongue! She pulled on a robe as she activated the monitor screen. The face was familiar but not immediately recognizable. She groped for her glasses with one hand as she combed through her sleep mussed hair with the other. Glasses in place, she frowned at the screen. Was that Mr. Uriel, Master Castiel's personal attorney? What the devil was the man doing here at this hour?

"Do you know what time it is?" She spoke sharply into the intercom. "Whatever do you want at this hour? Comeback at a respectable time. Better yet, make an appointment with his office. Mr. Castiel will see you then."

"I'm sorry to disturb you. I know it's unforgivably early but it is imperative that I speak with Mr. Castiel immediately." The man on the screen glanced stiffly backward, drawing Naomi's attention for the first time to the silhouette of a squad car shadowing his vehicle. "The police are with me." Uriel stated somberly. "They need to talk to Castiel. It's about the Omega."

Acknowledging the gravity of the situation, Naomi buzzed the perimeter gate open, then fled to summon her ward.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry. This may be emotional intense for some readers. It's never easy to lose a loved one.

Castiel scrambled to don a robe. He finished tying the belt with an angry yank. Whoever, whatever was disturbing the peace of his home at this ungodly hour would be dealt with, he swore, with righteous fury. He spared a quick glance at his bed mates. Both slept on peacefully, apparently exhausted by the night's sexual endeavors as well as the day's events. The sight of his Beta and Omega lovingly entwined, mellowed his anger- until the irritating rapping repeated at the door.

Stepping out into the hallway to confront the disturbance, Castiel growled. "What is the meaning of this!"

"I'm sorry to awaken you, sir." Naomi gulped, embarrassed by his disheveled state. The tousled hair, the bare legs and chest were ample evidence of his evening activities. A gentleman dressed properly even for sleep. She knew for a fact that he owned numerous pairs of pajamas. Pajamas he routinely wore. Except tonight. The thought of what had transpired in that room, of what was beneath that silk dressing gown left Naomi momentarily speechless.

"What is it, Naomi? What's wrong? Surely you didn't roust me for no reason."

She knew she was blushing. She knew she was flustered. In fact she couldn't look the boy she had raised in the eye. But she had to speak. "There are men-- policemen-- on the way up the drive. Mr. Uriel is with them. They want to talk to you. About him. The Omega. I'm sorry, sir-- I wasn't thinking. Maybe I shouldn't have let them in. No doubt, they're here to arrest him!"

"Police, you say? And Uriel, too?" Castiel struggled to get a handle on the situation. Just the fact that his usually unflappable housekeeper was stammering like an idiot, raised his level of concern. Why the devil would his personal attorney be calling in the middle of the night? And with a police escort. About Dean? What about the Omega?

"Show them into the parlor. Stall them. Give me five minutes to dress." Castiel ordered before ducking back into the master suite.

*

It had to be, Castiel concluded as he pulled on a pair of pants. It was the only thing that made sense! Why else would Uriel be there? Why else would the police have come? Winchester must be trying some legal gambit to get custody of Dean. Or to up the ante. No doubt, he would be satisfied with more money. Castiel was fairly confident that the man cared more for the dollar than he did for his Omega son.

Well it wasn't going to work, Castiel thought angrily, as he continued to dress. The Contract to Carry was legally binding, fairly standard in terms, with very generous compensation for services rendered. Enough was enough. It was time to show Winchester that he was no easy mark.

Cas passed over the array of button down shirts that hung in his dressing room. He knew he was too agitated to do up the buttons properly. A sweater would be a better choice. Relaxed, confident. It would indicate a man comfortably in charge of his home. This one would do. The authentic Aran fisherman knit, was a favorite. Hannah had bought it for him when they vacationed in the Emerald Isle. She claimed it accented his best features- his rugged good looks and sparkling blue eyes. A smile softened his features. Hannah was such a romantic. She always saw the best in people, particularly, him.

*

"Sorry to disturb you at this unreasonable hour, sir." Uriel began as Castiel entered the parlor. "It is imperative that the police speak with the Omega you've hired."

"What do you want with Dean?" Cas asked, striving not to be on the defensive. Alpha instincts could cloud his judgement, if he was not careful.

The senior police officer stepped forward. "Sir, are you familiar with a man by the name of John Winchester?"

"I signed a legal contract with the man for the services of his Omega son. I'm sure my attorney has already informed you of that fact."

"Yes, sir. That contract led us to your attorney. And in turn, to you. We need to talk to that Omega."

"Why?" Castiel demanded bluntly.

"It is a personal matter, sir. A family matter." The police officer stated diplomatically.

Uriel saw no reason to mince words. "Cas, there's been an accident. We need to talk to the boy." He paused. His stoic lawyer face cracked to reveal a semblance of sympathy. "It's bad, Cas."

*

Castiel entered the master bedroom quietly. His trine mates slept on peacefully, ignorant of the news that would change one's life irrevocably. He paused, gazing down at their entwined bodies. He didn't want to do it but he had to. He had told the police officer he would. It was better that Dean learn the news from him than a stranger. Of that, he was sure. He just didn't know how he was going to tell him.

Hannah stirred, perhaps sensing her husband's presence. She turned in her sleep to stretch, moving away from the Omega. Dean responded by shifting to snuggle at her back. The two slept on. Castiel gathered his resolve. It had to be done. He reached down to stroke Hannah's cheek. Heavy eyes opened, blinked then focused on Castiel, seated on the edge of the bed.

"Cas?" She murmured sleepily. "You're up?" Her eyes drifted shut. "Too early. Come back to bed. I'm..." A yawn interrupted, "...still tired."

Castiel bent down to kiss her cheek. "You need to get up now, Sweetheart. Get up and get dressed. Quickly. Get clothes for Dean too. It's important."

Hannah forced her eyes to open. She frowned, bewildered by his tone of voice as much as her husband's words. She opened her mouth to question him. A gentle hand covered her lips. "Please, Hannah. Do as I ask."

There was no mistaking the import of that. Hannah moved at once to obey.

*

As Hannah slipped out of bed, Dean stirred. He reached out blindly, searching to maintain contact. Castiel intercepted his hand, clasped it tenderly between his own. Dean settled, still deep in slumber. A small smile graced his lips. He was so beautiful, Cas thought. Innocent, loving, giving. He hated the thought of bringing him pain. But it had to be done.

Cas bent down to kiss those luscious lips. "Dean, wake up. Please. I need you to wake up now."

Dean responded, answering the Alpha's summons despite his fatigue. Instantly alert, he opened his eyes. He could sleep later. Now, the Alpha-- his Alpha?-- needed him. A good Omega answered his Alpha's call. Dean felt the tiny spark nestled in his core. It was well imbedded now. Safe and already growing. His smile bloomed, knowing how pleased they would be with the news. He looked for Hannah, wanting her to be included in this all important moment. His brow knit in confusion at her absence. She should be with them. Alpha, Beta and Omega. The frown increased as he noticed Castiel was fully dressed. He read the concern in those vivid blue eyes. "Cas, what is it? What's wrong?"

Castiel swallowed the lump that clogged his throat. He had to tell him. He had to find the words. "Dean. There's been an accident. A car crash. Your father-" A tear escaped at the years old memory of his own loss. "I'm sorry, Dean. Your father is dead."

The full mouth parted, forming an 'O' of disbelief and confusion. Pain followed, twisting the handsome features. "Dad?... No!" What was he saying? That couldn't be true. Dad was all-knowing, all powerful. His birth Alpha, to be honored and obeyed. Dad was indestructible. It couldn't be true. It was a mistake. A trick. That was it. A trick to steal him away from his rightful family. Just like Dad always warned would happen if he didn't listen, if he didn't obey. It couldn't be true. It couldn’t!

Dean opened his mouth to protest, to deny the ugly lie. Then he saw the Alpha's kind face lined by caring and grief for him. The intense blue eyes were clouded with tears. His shouts of denial died in his throat. "Dad? Dead?"

A simple nod of confirmation.

A sob swelled in Dean's chest. Dad was dead. Dead. There had been a car crash. An accident. As that began to sink in, a sudden new fear grabbed Dean. "What about Sammy? Is my brother...?"

"He’s alive but hurt." Cas hurried to reassure. "He's at the hospital. We will go there as soon as you’re dressed." His grip tightened on Dean's hands, holding him in place. It was best Dean know how serious this could be. "I don't know how badly he's hurt. The policemen said he was unconscious when they got him out. They had to use the Jaws of Life to get him out of the wreck."

*

Dean kept his eyes focused on the limp hand he gripped. Looking elsewhere was too scary. Sammy lay so still. His features, slack. His face was pale except for where it was bruised or cut. So many cuts. And bruises. They said he'd been thrown into the windshield. His leg pinned beneath the dash when it accordioned into the center console. That explained the compound fracture of his left leg. He must have hit hard. Broken ribs, internal injuries, a ruptured spleen. He'd lost a lot of blood, the medical people said. 

Dean risked a look at the IV bag hanging beside the bed. Life giving blood flowed, drop by drop, through the tubing into Sammy's arm. A nurse had hung a new bag a little while ago. She had been very efficient but had paused to smile kindly at him when she was done. She had pointed to the screen of one the machines. Sammy's blood pressure, she explained, was improving. It was still low but leveling off. A sign, she said, that the surgery had stopped the internal hemorrhaging. 

Dean knew that was a good thing. It was a sign of improvement. Sam wasn't out of the danger yet. The doctor had said the next 24-48 would be critical. Any improvement should be encouraging. But Sammy lay so still. It was scary. Dean knew if he let go of his brother's hand, even for a second, Sammy could slip away. He would be dead like Dad.

Dead like Dad... A shudder shook Dean. Dead like Dad down in the basement morgue. The police had needed positive identification from the next of kin. Castiel had argued that now was not the time but Dean had done what had to be done. He could not shirk this final duty to his Alpha. John Winchester seemed small, lying lifeless on that stainless steel slab. Mercifully the sterile drape had hidden the worst of his injuries, a crushed chest, from his view. The authorities said there would have to be an autopsy to determine the cause of death and if alcohol had been a factor in the accident. Dean had no doubt that it had. He didn’t care about the cause, just the result: Dad was dead and Sammy badly hurt.

*

Hannah's eyes narrowed in concern as the young Omega slumped further in his seat. Dean was exhausted. He had been sitting there, unmoving for hours, just holding his brother’s hand. She had tried several times to persuade him to step away, to rest or to eat something. Each suggestion was met with the same response: a polite refusal and renewed determination to remain at his brother’s side.

Hannah squeezed Dean's shoulder to gain his attention. "I think I’ll see what’s keeping Castiel. Want to join me for a little walk?" Again the simple head shake. "Can I get you anything?." Again the expected refusal. She glanced at the number of cafeteria cups of soup, tea or hot chocolate, cold and ignored on the bedside tray. They both knew, even if he said he didn’t want it, she would bring him something on her return. Discouraged, increasing desperate, Hannah rose and stepped out of the hospital room.

To her surprise, she found Castiel at the end of the hall, conferring with a doctor. Hannah waited until their interchange had ended before joining her husband. "Anything new?"

Cas sighed. "The doctor wants to run some more tests. Do a CAT scan, an EEG, maybe an MRI. He's concerned that Sam hasn’t regained consciousness." He paused to rub his tired eyes, his aching head. "He's worried about permanent brain damage.

"No! He's too young!" Hannah responded, properly shocked. "There must be something we- they can do!"

"I've already told them to do whatever it takes to save the boy. Call in specialists, miracle drugs, whatever- expense is immaterial." Cas heaved a heavier sigh. "Unfortunately this might be a time when money makes no difference."

"Oh, Cas! What will Dean do? He's already lost his father. Now if his brother is-" She couldn’t voice the possibility. "It- it will destroy him!"

"I know." He gathered Hannah into his arms, offering what comfort he could. There was more he had to tell her. He debated if now was the right time. As if, he chided himself, there could be a right time to destroy dreams! He bent to kiss the top of her head, resting his cheek there. "Uriel asked if Dean has caught." Hannah pulled back to eye him suspiciously. "He is concerned that legally our contract for Dean's services was with his father. And thus ended with his death. If Dean is carrying, we may be required to sue for custody of the child. Uriel assures me that we would undoubtedly win. But the matter could get...unpleasant."

"No!" Hannah objected. "Dean wouldn’t do that! He's not that kind of person. He knows how much this baby means to us! He wouldn’t— he couldn’t—." A flood of tears threatened.

"It's a possibility. A worse case scenario. It’s Uriel's job to prepare for all possible... entanglements." Cas shook his head. "I told him that Dean wasn’t like his father. That he's not in it for the money. He genuinely cares about the families he's helping." Cas wiped a tear from her cheek. "He's a good Omega— a good person- generous and loving." Castiel stepped back, hesitant to continue for fear that he hurt his wife more. But these were serious matters that required truth and honesty to resolve. "I told Uriel that Dean was special." He chose his words carefully. "That he was becoming very important. To me. And I think, to you. I hope, he might feel the same about us. Am I right? Is there more than just a legal document between us?"

"Of course there is! I've felt it. You have too. We haven't only been making a baby. We've been making love!" Hannah was quick to agree, smiling through tears.. "This is right for us. We- the three of us should be together. Alpha, Beta, Omega- we complete each other as Nature intended it to be."

Castiel bent to claim her lips, reaffirming their union. "But the question remains: Does Dean feel the same?" Uriel thinks we shouldn't take any chances. He's already done the paperwork. I just have to give the word and he'll file an Alpha claim. He warns that once the news of Winchester's death gets out, who knows who might stake a claim. I know he's right. There are undoubtedly any number of nefarious individuals in Winchester's past. But I can't do that to Dean." He looked back at the hospital room where the young Omega kept his vigil. "Or to us. The formation of a trine should be a matter of choice, not of force or fear or necessity. We have to wait until we can discuss this properly with Dean."

As concerned as they were for Dean's welfare, this was not the time to burden him with thoughts of his future. Now they could only support him as he dealt with this crisis. Tomorrow or the next day, they would talk. Then there would be possibilities to be considered. Decisions to be made.


	15. Chapter 15

Castiel saw him coming. Well actually, he heard him first. That saucy, slightly off key whistling that he associated with the one and only, Fergus McLoed Crowley. Who else would have the audacity to whistle his way through the corridor of a hospital's ICU? No one but Crowley! The man rounded the corner and headed straight to the nursing station, pausing long enough to greet each nurse with a cheeky grin plus a little sweet talk as he plucked a small bag from the basket he carried. He knew how to win their favor, Cas thought as he watched his progress. No one stepped up to challenge his presence. No one questioned his right to be in that area restricted to medical staff and the immediate families of gravely ill patients. In truth, the man strutted in like he owned the place. Cas shook his head in dismayed wonderment. Only Crowley!

"Hello, guv'ner! Care for a macaroon?" He offered one of his dwindling supply of goodies. "How's our boy faring?"

"What are you doing here?" Castiel demanded, sotto voice. "They only allow immediate family in here. Hannah and I are barely allowed to stay because Dean has no one else!"

"Ah, there's where you make your mistake, old chum," He explained, wagging a finger in Cas' face. "You pay attention to the rules. No rules, no problems. Here," He lobbed a goodie bag to a passing orderly. "Have a sweet, my friend." The man moved off, grinning in appreciation. "And you didn’t answer my question. How's our boy?"

"Which one? Dean? Or his brother?"

"Either. Both. To hear old 'Piss and Vinegar' tell it, they’re two peas in a pod. Rotten peas. One as bad as the next as she tells it. And she hasn’t even met the younger lad yet! That woman! Do you know she didn't even tell me that you'd been called out in the middle of the night on an emergency until no one showed up for the fine lunch I'd made!"

"Please, don't start on Naomi. She isn't half as bad as you make her out to be. And I've got bigger problems."

"Tell Uncle Crowley."

Castiel cast a sour look at his old friend. He was in no mood for joking around. "This is serious, man! That kid could die or end up brain dead! It's tearing Dean up! He's already lost his father! Sure, the man was drunken, greedy bastard but he was still those boys' father, their Alpha." Cas paced two steps this way, two steps back, raking his fingers through his hair as he went. "Their Alpha- the Alpha- and that's another thing - Uriel tells me I should claim Dean. Just like that. I'm supposed to be the big tough Alpha. I'm supposed to have all the answers. But I don't. I'm supposed to protect my Omega. But I can't. Dean is suffering and there's nothing I can do." He slumped against the wall, exhausted by his outburst and this drawn out crisis. "I'm a pitiful excuse for an Alpha!"

Crowley gave his old friend a moment to catch his breath. "Feel better?" Blue daggers shot his way. Crowley shrugged, unimpressed. "You needed to get that out of your system. Blow off some steam. Even the calm, cool, always composed Castiel can crack under too much pressure."

Cas would be damned before he would reward his old school chum with so much as a smile. He hated to be played like that. Crowley always seemed to know how to get under his skin! The man could be so infurating! Plus it didn't help that he was right. Cas did feel better, having shared his burden.

Crowley let it go. With a cocked eyebrow, he asked, "Status update?"

Cas pulled himself upright, smoothed his sweater into place. "Sam is in serious but stable condition. They had to do a splenectomy to stop the internal bleeding. Transfused four pints of blood. He's still unconscious. Anesthesia should have worn off hours ago. Doctors want to run more tests. A whole alphabet soup of tests. They're prepping him now." He reached up to rub the back of his neck, the tension knotting there. "Dean refuses to leave his side. He won't eat. Won't rest. He's on the verge of collapse. Hannah's not much better. She's stayed with him almost nonstop. They'll only allow one of us to be with him at a time." His mouth quirked into a ironic smile. "Those damn rules you flaunt."

"Leaving you to pace the halls and fret, eh, mate?" As he spoke, the doors to the ICU room parted. Two orderlies rolled out the transport gurney bearing Sam's motionless body. Seeing the boy, Crowley bit his lip to hold back the string of curses that sprang to mind. The poor lad was indeed a sight. The gurney rolled past, down the hall. The medics were here to care for the patient. Crowley had come to see to the needs of his friends.

In the room, Hannah stood gripping Dean's shoulders. Crowley wasn't sure if she were holding him back or holding him up. The Omega did look to be on the verge of collapse, nigh on as pale as his injured brother, eyes bright with fear. Hannah, bless her heart, was murmuring words of encouragement. The same that had likely been repeated many times throughout this long ordeal.

Crowley plunged in. "Eh, there, mates! I've come to bring you a decent meal. Which by the looks of this mess, you aren't like to come by here." His nose wrinkled at the sight of the various cups of questionable consumables, "Hannah, Cas if you'll clear away this- debris, I'll set you up with some of the Master's" He touched his own chest in mock humility, "Finest."

Dean slumped back into the hard plastic chair. "I'm not hungry." He mumbled, his eyes closing to block out their worried faces. If they would just leave him alone- no, not alone, him and Sammy. His head spun. Him and Sammy, like it always had been. Dad- no, don't go there. Dad was gone. He couldn't do anything for Dad now. But Sammy, he had to take care of Sammy. Sammy was his responsibility. Responsibility. His thoughts wound around the same track that he'd travelled through out this long night and day. Responsibility. He felt the spark growing within his core. He had a responsibility to it, too. And to the Alpha and the Beta who had entrusted it to his care. He should tell them he was carrying. It was his duty to do so. But if he did, they'd be worried about their baby. It was possible, likely, they would take him away from Sam. Couples were always concerned about their baby, not the Omega carrier. The baby was what mattered. Never the carrier and their concerns. He should tell them- no, he had to be here for Sammy! Nothing mattered but Sammy.

Crowley saw the Omega's withdrawal. He judged now was the time for more friendly meddling. With a look and a nod he directed Cas and Hannah to the task at hand. Once they were out the door to dispose of the cafeteria clutter, Crowley squatted down before Dean. "Listen here, lad! You've got to take care of yourself. You've got to eat. I don't care if you're not hungry. I don't care if the food taste like shit! You need to fuel this body of yours if you're going to take care of your brother. Do you hear me, lad?"

No response. Crowley grasped the boy by the chin, forced him to look him in the eye. "Do you hear me? You have to eat!" It was obvious that the Omega was running on sparse reserves. No doubt his blood sugar was bottoming out. Use your head, man, Crowley lectured himself. The boy had a sweet tooth. No denying that. Use it. Crowley reached down into his depleted basket of bribes. He tore open one of the bags, snagged a cookie and brought the macaroon to Dean's lips. "Open!" He ordered in his best, seldom used Alpha tone. Dean obeyed without thought. Crowley deposited the whole cookie into his mouth. "Chew."

Responding to the tone, the commands, Dean accepted the cookie. He chewed automatically, barely aware of the sweetness bursting on his tongue. He swallowed. Crowley fed him another. This one met awakened taste buds. It went down with more enthusiasm as did a third. Pleased, Crowley handed him another goodie bag. He was more than willing to let the lad stuff his face. Dean could use both the calories and the quick energy. But what he really needed was a nutritious meal.

Crowley sloughed off the backpack he carried. From its depths he extracted three thermal containers, utensils, paper cups and a large thermos filled with milk. He had debated bringing a select white wine but opted for the milk as more nutritious and soothing to tense stomachs. He had just finished laying out the fare when Hannah and Cas returned. "Help yourself to dinner. A word of warning: I won't be satisfied until I see empty plates. Now," He added very pleased with himself, "I'll just be a minute- see what accommodations I can wrangle..."

"Crowley!" Castile cautioned, around a mouthful of excellent coq au vin, "Don't go stirring up trouble!!"

"Trouble? Me? You've the wrong bloke. I bend the rules, not break'em!"

*

By the time the gurney bearing Sam's unconscious body was wheeled back into the room, they all had eaten their fill. Dean, with two lemon tarts topping off his dinner, was actually dozing in the recliner an orderly had delivered earlier at Crowley's direction. How his friend had managed that, Castiel was pretty sure he didn't want to know.

The commotion of transferring the patient from gurney to hospital bed, woke Dean. As soon as the medical staff stepped back, Dean was there to take his brother's hand. Little seemed to have changed in the younger Winchester's condition but Crowley was pleased to see that Dean had some color in his face now. A good meal, a little rest had done wonders for the lad!

As the nurse dealt with the various machines monitoring Sam's condition, she informed them that the doctors were reviewing the tests results and would be in shortly to speak with them. Her work done, she left the room. 

"I'd best be off, too." Crowley began, picking up his depleted backpack. "I'll be back with a proper supper before you can miss me."

*

Castiel recognized the dapper man waiting outside Sam's room to speak with him. They'd met on several previous occasions: media events, fundraising campaigns, a groundbreaking ceremony or two. Doctor Richard Roman was an efficient, extremely competent hospital administrator. It wasn't his fault that he made Cas' skin crawl. As he approached, Cas saw the perfect smile snap into place. Or maybe it was. The man was simply too perfect to be real. Too polished. Too practiced. Too plastic. Too- too everything. Cas didn't trust the man any further than he could throw him.

"Castiel, good to see you again. Although I sincerely regret the circumstances." Dr. Roman began over a hearty handshake. The prefect smile never faltered. Nor, Cas noted, did it reach the sharp eyes. "I'm so very sorry. I would have been here sooner if I had known this patient was a family member."

That threw Cas for a moment. Technically Sam was not a relative of either his or Hannah's. To admit that could, should get them removed from the Intensive Care ward. That was hospital policy. Immediate family only. Apparently Crowley had embroidered the truth as well as traded on his family name to procure their current accommodations. Well, there was nothing he could do now but run with it. Dick Roman was likely to be too astute to quibble over details when dealing with a major donor. Although Castiel was loath to ask for special privileges, there were advantages to holding the purse strings to the family charitable foundation.

"I'd like to think that every patient receives excellent care from this facility." Cas stated, sidestepping the issue of family.

"Of course! Of course, you are 100% correct! Only the best for our patients." Roman agreed readily. "The finest doctors. The finest staff. The newest equipment. The most modern facility."

Castiel could hear it coming. The wind up, the pitch for a donation. Apparently it wasn't enough that there was already a wing dedicated in the name of his parents. A good fundraiser never missed an opportunity to pass the plate. A slow burn simmered in Cas. Now was not the time. This was not the place. He was about to tell Roman that when he saw the doctor leading the team treating Sam, approaching.


	16. Chapter 16

Dr. Linda Tran, chief of neurology and head surgeon, departed the elevator with determination in hand. This was the part of her job that she enjoyed the least. There was satisfaction in treating aneurisms, skull fractures, tumors and a myriad of other maladies. Her training and her skill saw her through with confidence. She was one of the best in her field. That was a fact. No false modesty required. Her Achilles heel, like many of her surgical colleagues was in the interpersonal realm. Dealing with people- patients and their families- was not her forte. Her diagnosis had the power to alter lives, destroying some, improving others. All garnered excess emotions that she frankly would prefer to avoid. Identifying with the patient, empathy only complicated a surgeon's job. 

Focused on her latest case, she barely noticed the nurses on duty as she rounded their work station. A few murmured respectful greetings as she passed. Veterans of the ICU recognized the laser focus of her eyes, the tension in her stride. The news was not good, they surmised, for victim of last night's car crash. The poor boy and his family!

Dr. Tran faltered slightly when she saw the hospital administer was present, outside the patient's room, apparently in conversation with a family member. Damn. Richard Roman's involvement was likely to complicate what had to be done. The man was an able enough administrator. He handled the minutiae, the day to day functioning of the hospital competently. She could not fault him there. He was also a talented fundraiser. The new surgical wing was evidence of his skill. Technically, he was her boss. That still didn't mean she had to like him. The man's effusiveness played well to the media and served well to glad hand donors but she found it off putting in the extreme.

That Roman was here, could only mean one thing. The man had an affinity for important people and deep pockets. Potentially generous saps to tap. Dr. Tran shifted her focus to his companion. This man was likely both. He did look somewhat familiar. She had met him before, she was almost certain of that. Names, faces were trivial to her. Anatomy, diagnosis, treatment were all that mattered. She keyed into the man's features. He was pleasant looking. Some would even say handsome. His attire was wrong. Picture him in a suit and tie. Perhaps a tuxedo? No, business attire, definitely. Yes, his likeness clicked into place in her memories. The ribbon cutting ceremony for the new wing. He had been the major donor. What was his name? She should remember his name. Charles? No. Something strange, more exotic. Chaz? No, that wasn't right either.

"Dr. Tran, you remember our good friend and benefactor, Castiel, of course." Roman ended her internal struggle smoothly. She followed social convention to shake the man's hand. "I hope you've brought us good news." Dick continued with a tight lipped smile.

Tran took her cue. Report. Spin it in the best possible light. "The prognosis is promising. Hemorrhaging has stopped. Intracranial pressure is decreasing. The patient is young. The young tend to be resilient. These are encouraging factors." She saw the quick leap of hope in the man's clear blue eyes. "What troubles me is the patient's overall condition."

"What do you mean?" Castiel asked, his face full of concern.

"There were suspicions during intake in Emergency. The MRI confirms it. This boy is the victim of long term abuse and neglect." She proceeded to expound upon her statement. "There are a number of poorly heeled fractures- to the ribs, the collarbone, a spiral fracture of the humerus. Moreover, there is scar tissue on the back, the buttocks indicative of beatings with a belt or a cord. From the nature of his current injuries, the boy may have been unconscious even before the accident. He likely was a limp projectile, a rag doll, if you will, thrown about by the impact of the crash." She ignored he administrator's disapproving glare. "He is also malnourished and severely underweight. The full details are in my report to Child Protective Services."

"Surely, that is not necessary." Roman began, reading the devastation on Castiel's face. "As I understand it, the custodial parent died in the crash. He can hardly be a threat to the boy now. Surely there is no need to complicate the situation by involving the authorities."

"The law requires medical personnel to report all cases of abuse." Tran stated unequivocally. "I've already forwarded my report to the appropriate authorities."

"You should have consulted me before doing that, Doctor." Roman stated, his jaw clenched in fury. The woman obviously had no concept of the philanthropy her actions were jeopardizing. Men like this, powerful men, men with money, did not patronize entities that meddled in their personal affairs.

"I don't see why. My duty to the patient is clear. Child abuse can not be overlooked. Or tolerated."

"What will happen now?" Castiel asked, struggling to process this latest development.

"Child Protective Services will investigate. But once they realize the custodial parent is deceased, the abuse charges will be moot." Roman was quick to reassure him.

"Perhaps not." Tran interjected. "There is the older sibling. As next of kin, he would logically be awarded custody of this minor. Yet it is likely that he was complicit in the abuse. At the very least as an silent observer. His involvement should be evaluated before custody is determined. Foster care may be the preferred option."

"You can't possibly believe Dean would hurt his brother. He loves him. He is absolutely devoted to him!"

"Love, for some, can be very cruel."

*

They were good with him, Dr. Tran concluded as she detailed the test results to the older sibling. They were patient and kind, genuinely concerned, it seemed, making sure that he understood what he was being told. She hadn't expected that. Most Alpha/Beta pairings were dismissive of an Omega once the exchange of genetic material had been accomplished. An Omega was, after all, only a temporary exigency. That brought to mind the Omega that had incubated her own son. What was his name? Gary. Gabe. Gabriel. She thought that might be correct. She had only a vague recollection of what he looked like. In truth once the transfer had been completed, neither she nor her husband had seen the carrier again. Regular reports from their Obstetrician had sufficed to update them on the pregnancy's progress. When birth had occurred, they had claimed Kevin at the hospital. There was no need to have any further contact with the Omega. He would have no role in their or their son's lives. Their business contract was complete.

"Sam is going to be okay?" The young Omega asked for the third time..

"All indications are favorable." Tran affirmed yet again.

"Then why doesn't he wake up?"

They all looked to her for the answer. "The brain is a very complex and delicate organ. Each individual heals at his or her own pace. Your brother could regain consciousness today, tomorrow, next week or next month." Noting Roman's scowl of disapproval, she did not add the worst case scenario, 'Or never.' But ethics required her to be truthful. "Once he regains consciousness, we can determine what, if any brain damage has occurred."

*

Castiel excused himself to place a phone call. He needed advice, legal advice. Uriel was retained as his personal attorney to handle such issues. He worked out his agenda as waited for the call to be answered. After he talked to the attorney, he would have a heart to heart with Hannah. They both had to agree on this course of action. He wasn't willing to risk their marriage by acting unilaterally. Hannah had to feel as strongly as he did or this would never work. Only if Hannah agreed, would he talk with Dean. No, they'd talk with Dean together, he decided. That's how it should be, Alpha, Beta, Omega. Together. The way Nature intended them to be.

*

"Hannah, let's get a cup of coffee."

She shook her head wearily, massaging her temple with two fingers to ease her aching head. "No more coffee. I'm on a caffeine overload."

"Then walk with me to the cafeteria. A little exercise will be good for both of us."

Hannah, frowned. She glanced meaningfully to her right where Dean sat, still clutching his unconscious brother's hand. Castiel was pretty sure he could read her thoughts. She didn't want to go. She wanted to be here for Dean. She didn't want to leave him alone. He was so worried about his brother. And the poor boy had just lost his father. He shouldn't be alone.

"Please, Hannah, walk with me."

There was no argument against that simple request. Hannah rose. She excused herself to Dean, inquiring in vain if there was anything she could get for him. The Omega murmured an absent denial, barely aware of her departure. His attention, all his energy was focus on his injured brother.

Once they were out in the hallway, Hannah demanded, "Cas, what is it? Is something wrong? Did the doctors tell you something they didn't tell Dean?"

"Yes and no." Castiel started by way of introduction. "You know everything there is to know about Sam's physical condition. But there are other matters we need to discuss. Decisions that have to be made before it’s too late." He saw her denial rise up. He spoke quickly to forestall any argument. "I've been talking with Uriel. He advised me that with John Winchester dead, the contract is void. Winchester negotiated it. He signed." Castile shrugged. "Since Dean hasn't caught yet, it's unlikely the Agency will be willing to renegotiate. But Uriel is fairly confident that Dean will be assigned to another pairing.

"They can’t do that! What about our baby? What about Dean? And poor Sam! How will Dean be able to care for his brother if he's assigned to another couple?" Her face reflected her despair. "Cas, they can’t take him away from us."

"They can and they will. Unless we act first. Uriel recommends that we file an Omega claim. If we do that, you know what it means. This wouldn’t be a one shot, make a baby and be done with it deal. It would be permanent. You'd have to agree to it. And so would Dean. I won't force him into this. Hopefully he'll see that it is to his advantage. If we form a trine, we can offer Dean- and Sam- a home. And we can see to it that Sam gets all the medical care he needs. We owe him that." Castiel let his guilt surface. "When we paid off the doctor to not report the evidence of Dean's abuse, I never considered that we were leaving the younger son at their father's mercy. Hannah, if we hadn’t been so selfishly absorbed in our own needs, that boy might never have been injured. In fact Winchester might still be alive. In jail, if justice were served, but alive.

*

They wanted to talk. They said there were things- important things they needed to discuss. Dean didn't think he liked the sound of that. He wasn't good with words. Dad always said he had a smart mouth. It got him into trouble. He learned pretty early to keep his mouth shut and do as he was told. No one liked an uppity Omega, Dad said. Dad...

Grief stabbed him anew. Sometimes if he just concentrated on Sammy- him waking up, him getting better, him just breathing- he could almost forget that Dad was dead and lying in the hospital morgue. Gosh, that was a creepy word, a creepy place. He shuddered at the memory of seeing his father, lying still and broken on that steel slab.

And there were times that all he could think of was Dad, dead and gone. What would happen now? Without Dad, without their Alpha, who would provide for Sam and him. Sure he was the big brother. It was his job to care for Sammy, like he always had. But Sam was hurt. He needed doctors and nurses and the hospital to get better. And all that cost money, lots of money. And he didn’t have any money. Hannah knew that troubled him. She was so was sweet. She had said he shouldn't worry about that. But Betas didn't control the family pocketbook. Alphas ruled there. Would Castiel object? Is that what he wanted to discuss?

They did need to talk, Dean admitted to himself. About more than the money. About more than Sam. He had yet to tell them about the baby. He needed to tell them he had caught. He never should have waited this long to tell them he was carrying their baby. It just never seemed to be the right time to tell them, what with Sam hurt and Dad dead.

The news would make them happy, wouldn't it? It should. Unless they were mad because he had kept it secret. Maybe they had had enough of him and his problems. Maybe they had decided he was more trouble than he was worth! There were other Omegas who would carry a child for them. Other Omegas that didn't have the baggage he did- an injured orphaned brother, a dead father. What if they wanted to tell him that the deal was off! Would they want him to abort the baby?! It was just a tiny spark of life now. Just a cluster of developing cells. He could do it- in theory- any Omega could. It just required a shift in his body chemistry. But it would sadden him if they asked him to do that. This child, tiny though it was now, was the great gift he wanted to give them. They had been kind and generous to him from the very first. They were special in so many ways. Being with them had been wonderful. He had never felt like this with another Alpha/Beta pairing. A gift, Dean decided as he followed Hannah into the small room to which Castiel had guided them. A gift! He would give them this child for free, forget about the contract Dad had negotiated! Dad was here anymore to tell him what he had to do. He wanted to carry this child for them because they were special, not because of a paper or the Agency or Dad said he had to.

*

Crowley jumped slightly when the limp hand in his grasp twitched. He swiped his free hand over his face, embarrassed to be caught dozing. Geez, man, you're a sad stand in! The others stepped out for their tete a tete not more than ten minutes ago and already you're nodding off! Truth be told he was more suited to a sixteen hour day in a steamy kitchen than sitting bedside in hospital. Idle hands and all that. Enough. He pulled himself together to check on the patient he had promised to watch over.

Two hazel eyes stared up at him.

"Hey now!" Crowley began, totally surprised and a bit flummoxed. "Look who's awake!"

"Awake?" The word emerged as a hoarse croak, barely audible, barely intelligible.

"Aye, you've been out for a good long while. Gave us all a good scare."

"Us?" The battered face shifted as the boy puzzled over that. "Who?" 

"Me name's Crowley. I'm a friend of the family. I promised Dean I'd sit with you while he has a confab with the Boss and the Missus." Crowley winked at the boy. "Important business or they wouldn't have been able to tear Dean from your side."

"Dean?" The boy turned his head upon the pillow, eyes searching for his brother. The slight movement caused him to wince in pain.

"Hey, now, keep still! You've been banged up a good bit. Dean is right outside. I'll call him in, if you like. But it would be best if the three of them finish what they've started. If you ken my meaning." Another wink with a crooked grin. "Mayhaps I should call the nurse to give you something for your pain. What do you say, lad?

The cobwebs were clearing slowly. There was much that didn't make sense. Some that did. He was hurt. Bad enough to be here. In a hospital. Nurses. Doctors. Hospitals were expensive. Dad would be mad. Dad--it hurt to think. It was enough to feel. He hurt all over. His head, especially. His tongue felt way too big for his mouth. He parted his lips to give it more space. He tried licking his dry lips. He had no spit.

"Are you thirsty?" The stranger was quick to react. "Try this." Crowley snatched up the bottle of Perrier that he brought for Dean. "Your brother gets quite a kick out of this fizzy water." He stuck a straw in the opening and brought it to Sam's lips. After a moment's struggle, Sam drew in a sip, then two. The bubbles exploded in his mouth, moistening and refreshing. It was good. He drew in another sip before the man withdrew the bottle.

"That's enough for now. You need to take it slow. Moderation in all things, they say, eh? I've called the nurse." He held up a box with big buttons, attached to a cord. "They'll want to know you're awake."

Awake? Was he awake? Or was this some weirdo dream? He wished Dean was here to help sort everything out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you find this chapter satisfying as well as interesting. I have tried to convey the uncertainty of establishing a relationship times three. Rarely do we have the luxury of falling in love without outside factors to complicate the issue. Given Dean's background and his current situation, I anticipated that he would not feel worthy of love.


End file.
